Thornless Rose
by SaintCatherine
Summary: After a passionate night with Sandor during the Battle of Blackwater, Sansa finds herself pregnant. Now she alone must escape the wrath of Kings and the malice of brothers alike.
1. Chapter 1

**The Crushed Flower**

* * *

The sky shone fiercely with all the intensity of the Gods as if they, and not men, were the ones at war. Sansa could see the illuminating green surrender into the clouds and how it formed a macabre eerie foggy mist over the sea. It was spectacular and frightening all at once, but still she could not peel her eyes away. This was _war. _This was what the battlefield was truly like. Where men sauntered out in the thousands only to meet their doom.

If Sansa had ever felt like a feeble, simple minded and weak woman, it was now. She could hear their cries as she leaned over her bedside desk. It took deep breaths to soothe her, but she needed to find some source of comfort.

Frowning, she went over to her bed and gingerly picked up her favourite little doll. It had been a gift from her father and always served as a painful reminder of just how much she took for granted. A light smile began to make its way to her lips and a feeling of warmth began to make its way through her body until a distinct and dark male voice interrupted her musings.

"The lady started to panic…"

She gasped and whirled around to see Sandor Clegane perched casually in the corner of her room against a wall. A little bewildered, she cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?" She tried to sound hostile, but even to her, the attempt seemed quite shabby.

"Not here for long," he replied gruffly and Sansa stared at him in confusion.

"Where?" She protested. Her voice held much more emotion than she wanted to show, but she couldn't help the mixed feelings that welled inside her.

"Some place that isn't burning." Silence was what filled the room now and even though it was a few mere moments, to Sansa it seemed to stretch on forever. _Of course _she thought to herself dimly. _He hates fire. _

He looked at her and for once Sansa saw something that she had not seen before. Sadness perhaps. Maybe it was longing.

"North would be," he paused as he looked at her and continued "could be…"

Still holding the doll and uncomprehending of why Sandor was telling her this, Sansa said the first thing that sprang into her mind.

"What about the king?"

Sandor did not even hesitate. "He can die just fine on his own," he said carelessly as he took a swig of wine from his bottle. He gave a satisfied grunt and turned his gaze to her again. "I could take you with me, take you to Winterfell." He stood up and Sansa didn't dare take her eyes off him. Just what was he proposing? Why in the midst of battle had he come all the way here just to tell her this? To offer her this? Was it freedom?

"Do you want to go home?" He asked. Sansa was at a loss of what to say. Indeed what could she say? She was to wed Joffery! Surely returning home would have the king's army marching her way to either claim her back (with ramifications she couldn't even imagine) or to place her head on a pike. And she just couldn't put her two little brothers in even more danger.

"I'll be safe here," she surmised, albeit, reluctantly. "Stannis won't hurt me." Indeed why would he? She was merely Cersei's hostage and he had nothing to gain by killing her and making an enemy out of her brother Robb. Sandor stood there, but Sansa couldn't decipher his emotions. He was so stiff though. Suddenly he took a menacing step forward. Sansa let out a startled whimper and looked to the ground. Her body shook a little in fear.

"Look at me," he demanded. Reluctantly, she looked at him. His dark eyes bore into her own, but she couldn't see any malice in them. Sandor bent his head lower to meet her eye level. "Stannis is a killer," he said seriously. "The Lannisters are killers," he spat. "Your father was a killer. Your brother is a killer. Your sons will be killers someday. The world is built by killers." He moved away and sniffed. Sansa's heart was hammering in her chest.

Sandor huffed and looked at her in slight benediction. "So you better get use to looking at them." What passed with some heavy silence, gave Sansa some realization. Suddenly all her fear was gone. Sandor…

He had always been there for her. Always there to protect her from the king when he could, always there to wipe away her blood, cover her shame and intervene on her behalf. How could she have been so blind?

"You won't hurt me," she said, keeping her eyes peeled on his face. He likewise did not take his eyes off hers, but he seemed a little taken aback by her statement. However, the corners of his mouth upturned into the hint of a smile.

"No little bird I won't hurt you." Sansa did not know what to say, but as he turned away, Sansa could not bear to watch him go. Undoubtedly he was leaving and most likely she would never see him again. And that realization caused a deep ache in her bosom.

"Wait!"

Sandor stopped dead in his tracks and straightened up. Sansa didn't know what to say, but there was no way they could depart like this! "I-I don't want you to leave." It sounded pathetic and she wasn't sure what sort of ground she was treading on, but they just couldn't part like this. Sandor turned around to face her. His expression was gruff and somewhat emotionless as usual, but there was deep contemplation in his eyes.

"There is no way I can stay little bird. Not even for you since I abandoned the battle." Sansa swallowed hard. She understood this of course. If Joffery won there is no way he or anyone within the royal family and counselors would allow Sandor to live. "But…" Sansa whispered, suddenly overcome with a throbbing pain in her head and a deep ache in her throat. She did not want to cry in front of him, but yet she still wanted him to see her weep tears. Tears for him. Tears for his sake.

Sandor's rough calloused hand reached out to caress her face. His fingers traced the fine contours of her high cheek bones, the strength of her jaw. His thumb gently ran across her bottom lip. How was it even possible for man so intimidating, cruel and as strong as Sandor to be so tender and sympathetic? Sansa licked her lips as his hand cupped her cheek. She let her pale hand cover his before brazenly running into his chest and pressing herself against him. She didn't really understand what she was doing or why she was doing it, but for once she wanted a feel of what other women experienced. Her arms wrapped around his torso and she pressed the side of her head against his chest. "I'm going to miss you," she murmured sadly.

Sandor was stunned to say the least. He had not been expecting that, but the feel of her soft female body against his was enough to overwhelm his drunken warrior mind. His strong arms wrapped around her body and he held her close. His fingers ran through her glossy red hair and he closed his eyes. She smelt of everything that was beautiful. Rose water, vanilla and lavender coupled with her own natural female scent.

"I know," he whispered back to her. "I know little bird." He wasn't sure how long he held her like that amidst the sounds of explosions and battle cries. What worried him is that he wasn't sure if he would be able to let go. Now that he had turned back he didn't think he could leave without forcefully taking her with him.

"Why?" She said to him softly and looked up at him. He raised a brow at her question. "Care to be more specific little bird?" Sansa hesitated a moment and took a deep breath. "Why are you always there for me so much? Why did you save me all those times? Help me? Say all those things to me as if you were trying to tell me something? Why of all places did you come here?" Silence ensured as Sandor gave her questions careful consideration.

"You do know how I got this burn don't you?" Sansa looked away from him, but his grip tightening around her girth let her know that it was not to be tolerated. "Yes," she conceded feeling a little ashamed. He made a sound of disgust, but didn't let go of her. Either way, Sansa did not feel threatened staying in his arms.

"It is a cruel world out there. I think you know that now, but when I first saw you, I knew that you were a naïve girl full of illusions. Even now you still harbor those illusions." The words were as sharp as a double edged sword. Sansa's lips formed a thin line and Sandor released her. "I only did what was necessary. I tried to quell these illusions with what I said, but also offer you some hope with my actions."

It took a few moments for Sansa to digest what he was saying, but eventually she understood. He was merely educating a fool. And what a great fool she had been. "Why?" That was the only question left. Sandor chuckled and took another swig of wine. Sansa felt slightly disgusted, but it seemed whatever horrors were out in the battlefield had made him turn to Drink.

"Why? Well little bird, you simply remind me of all the injustices I myself suffered when I was a child. If ever I was one. I am certain now that all those childish foolhardy delusions you harbored are gone are they not?" She didn't reply and merely looked down. His words were cutting, but they were nothing but the truth. There was nothing else to do, but grudgingly accept his musings.

"Yes," she said sadly and went to sit on her bed. The thundering sounds outside the city's walls continued. An awkward stillness passed over until Sansa broke it. "I thank you Sir Sa…" He cut her off. "I am not a _sir,_" he hissed between his teeth. Sansa shrank back a little, but nodded. "Thank you Sandor. Thank you for everything." And she meant it too.

Sandor said nothing in return and merely looked out the window with its many green and moonlit lights shining through. "Stay safe my lady," he whispered to her sadly and turned around to leave.

"Wait!" Sansa cried out again. Sandor let out a slight laugh and turned back to her. "My lady if you keep me here too long, my head will be off in the morning along with yours no matter which side wins." Sansa bit her lip. She had resolved to stay here and that she would, but she didn't want to forget Sandor and she didn't want him to forget her.

A thought came to her mind. One that no highborn lady should even contemplate especially not one engaged to a king. However it enticed her. It could be her own private revenge against Joffery and for once in her life she had wanted to defy all the natural order. She wanted to be defiant like Lyanna Stark as her father had often told her. Gods above, she wanted to rebel just like Arya. But most of all, she wanted to give this to Sandor Clegane and she wanted him to take it from her. It was irrational and impulsive. No doubt she would regret this come the morning, but for now nothing else mattered. And besides, it was Queen Cersei herself who told her the best weapon a woman had was between her legs.

"Are you…are you really going to leave without leaving me anything to remember you by?" Sandor's brows furrowed and he casually strolled up to her. "What is it that my lady bird desires? I am sure you can remember me in your thoughts or perhaps like so many fools, you need a token. Some sort of object to worship. Sansa…that will probably get you killed." Now it was Sansa's turn to laugh. The whole situation was laughable to say the least, but what did she care? How did any of it matter anymore?

"That is not exactly what I want," she said and then looked at him more seriously. Her blue eyes bore hard into his face and she grimaced at the hideous scar. No doubt there were probably countless of battle scars on his body. "I don't think I am ever going to see you again if you leave." Sandor snorted at her words. "There is no 'if' about it little bird. I will leave and very soon, but tell me, what is it that you want?"

"I want you to take something no other man can take from me ever again. Least of all Joffery." Sandor regarded her quietly and his eyes narrowed. He didn't understand. Sansa gulped and continued. "I don't think that I am ever going to…enjoy…I mean," she bit her lip and looked up at him. He was waiting for her to explain her request. "I don't want Joffery to be my first." She looked down when she said that and felt her cheeks grow hot. If anything, even the atmosphere seemed to rise in its heat. She was too scared to look up into Sandor's face for fear of what she may find there. Disgust? Rejection?

The silence stretched on and Sansa wondered if what she had said had stretched too far. Did it diminish any grudging admiration or respect Sandor had for her? "Sansa," Sandor began softly. She gazed up at him. She had never seen his expression become so gentle. Her gaze at him was expectant. He placed his hand on top of her head. "'You're just a child." Even his own voice sounded so unsure.

Sansa flared up a little. "I am not! I've had my blood. You were the one that barged in my chambers and saw for yourself." Sandor's lips pursed and he looked away. _Please don't reject me _Sansa thought desperately. "And still a child. Sansa if your maidenhead is broken you could…" she stood up angrily. Even her own confidence was a surprise to her. "I don't care. Plenty of women lie about their maidenheads on their wedding nights and needless to say there are plenty of tricks to make it happen. But I do not want Joffery to have it. I do not want him to be the first one to take my maidenhead."

Sandor breathed out. He was clearly at a loss of what to do in this situation as far as Sansa could tell. He could have easily walked out on her, but the fact that he was standing there even now was plain proof that he was definitely considering this. That he wanted this. What sort of man wouldn't?

"Please,"Sansa started. The desperation was evident in her voice. "I want it to be you. I could always remember the first man that took me." Sandor placed his hand on her shoulders. His gaze at her was rather pitying, however he briefly analysed her body. "Why me? I have no honour and hardly have a regard for women. I have killed women. Countless women."

"Have you raped women?" Sansa asked. Sandor grunted and his clasp on her shoulder tightened. "Would you still like to give yourself to me if I have?"

"Yes," Sansa said without hesitation. She would rather be raped by Sandor than Joffery if choice came down to it. He barked out a laugh. "I doubt it, but as per your question no. I have not raped any woman. That is one thing I cannot stomach." Sansa felt her respect for him rising within her chest a little more. How many men admitted to something like that? Plundering a woman was considered to be a glorified thing by many men in battle.

"I want it to be you. You have done so much for me and I want to thank you." Sandor scoffed, but Sansa was not going to back down. This was shameless to say the least, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She didn't want them to part without something significantly memorable. "Sandor _please," _she whispered pressing herself against him again. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. "I want you to. I want it to be you and it would be nice to reflect back and think that at least my first time wasn't forced."

The air in the room ceased to subside. This could only end in two ways. Either Sandor would take her or he would leave. She certainly hoped it was not in the latter. "Don't cry little bird," he said to her and kissed her forehead. His thumbs wiped away her tears. "Sansa you do not understand what you are saying neither do you understand the consequences for it. You're a Stark girl are you not? The daughter of Eddard Stark? Don't forget your honour. Remember who you are. Remember your family."

They stared at each other again. "And I'm the drunk one," he mused. But Sansa didn't care. "It doesn't matter to me anymore Sandor. Honestly it doesn't. I want you to do this for me. Please. Please do this for me." Her pleading was in every fibre of her being. Her eyes were so sad, so desperate and so beautiful. If he had been sober, he would have brushed her off the moment she suggested he do such a thing (even though he wanted to), but under the haze of wine, how could he refuse her?

"Sansa…"

She looked up at him with furrowed brows and desperate longing. Tonight was her night and she would get revenge against Joffery in her own way. For once she would do something for herself and instead of being the perfect obedient Sansa Stark everyone knew her to be, she would become something else entirely. At least tonight.

She stepped on her tippy toes to reach closer to Sandor's face and only after a split moment of uncertainty, she pressed her lips against his.

Her eyes were closed and the kiss was innocent enough, but she wasn't prepared for what Sandor suddenly did. His arms wrapped around her waist and he crushed her against him. His lips were fiercely against hers and his tongue was licking her bottom lip. He tasted so manly. Bitter and sweet at once. She could also smell him so ardently.

He didn't exactly stink, but he had a mixture of smells within him. Leather, blood from battle, sweat and musk. It was overwhelming. A mixture of feelings ran throughout her and she couldn't even describe what they were even if her life depended on it. His tongue started pushing between the parting of her lips and Sansa opened her mouth to let him enter.

He was rough, but how could she expect him to be anything less? His hand clumped her hair and yanked it back to hold her head at an angle. She assumed it was for better access. His tongue vigorously played with hers even though she wasn't sure what to do. But he mercilessly sucked on her wet muscle and her bottom lip. Sansa moaned into his mouth. Although the pull against her hair was slightly painful and his arm around her waist was too tight, she was enjoying having his mouth against hers. He tasted of wine.

When he pulled away, Sansa was breathless, but his mouth went for her neck. He licked it and sucked on it and nipped at it. Sansa let out little whimpers. "Sandor," she whispered. His lips found hers again in their desperate need, but this time his hands were fumbling with the lacing of her gown at the back. He was pulling at it roughly and eventually became so fed up that he simply ripped the back of the outer gown in half. If his tongue wasn't in her mouth she would gave gasped.

Nevertheless, Sandor was getting desperate. He pushed her hard against a wall-his armour cold against her body. Her gown had fallen to her waist, but the petticoat was still on. On one shoulder though it had slipped far enough to reveal a small breast. Sandor grabbed it and pulled at the pink moist nipple. Sansa cried out into his mouth. She managed to pull away to catch her breath and say "I can't breathe." Sandor simply shoved her against the wall.

"Then don't," his voice was gruff, but still tender. It was dripping with arousal. His lips found hers again, but his hand was grabbing the skirts of her gown in folds. When it was high enough, he slipped his hand between her thighs. Instinctively, Sansa hoisted one leg around his calf to give him better admittance. She moaned into his mouth when his hand touched her womanhood. He didn't do much other than cup it and massage it.

The feel of his calloused warriors hand against her slick heat made Sansa go weak at the knees. She wore nothing underneath her gown other than some petticoats and her stockings. She hadn't bothered to place on the proper underwear because of the rush when Stannis's army arrived. She wondered what Sandor would think of this, but she doubted he noticed the lack of aforementioned attire. When he finally did pull away from her, he stared at her for the longest time before removing his hand from her womanhood and simply ripped her entire gown and underclothes off.

A blush came to her cheeks. No man had ever seen her naked before and her arms immediately went to cover her breasts. Sansa looked down in embarrassment, but Sandor placed his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. He stroked her chin and then moved away to look at her body.

"Take out your hair," he commanded. Sansa's lips ached from his kiss, but she dared not disobey him now. Slowly, she took out the pins that confined some of her hair back before letting it fall all down. She flicked it behind her shoulders and managed with a lot of self will, to look at Sandor Clegane again.

He looked at her in deep contemplation and he reached out to touch one of her little breasts. His thumb swirled around its hardened nipple and he smiled at her weakly. "Go to the bed." Although Sansa still felt extremely shy, it was too late to turn back at this point and nonetheless, she wanted this. She wanted this _badly. _With what little dignity she had left, Sansa walked over to the bed and sat on it.

Sandor was still staring at her or had he been staring at her posterior? "Sansa," Sandor said a little more harshly. She met his gaze and arched a brow. "I meant go to the bed and lie down. Spread your legs apart." The statement was forward, but Sansa remembered that this had all been her idea in the first place. She did as he asked and slowly spread apart her legs. However Sandor didn't approach the bed yet. He began to take off his armour and out of her peripheral vision, Sansa watched him. He removed the silver plating and the mail then his boots and leather tunic. His doublet came off next leaving him in nothing but his leather pants, which he took off too. Sansa blushed when she caught sight of his manhood at the nest of his black curls. It was stiff and alert. Ready for her. But she was also alarmed by it. She had never seen a man naked before.

He sauntered over to her and Sansa began to feel a sense of anxiety in the pit of her belly. She was scared no doubt, but on the hand, she had never been so sure of anything in her entire life. He moved between her legs and then on top of her. His hands on either side of her body. His gaze was a mixture of emotions rather than the warrior hard-faced anger she usually saw in him.

"You're beautiful," he murmured and took her full on the mouth. Sansa could feel his hardness against her legs and although it had a soft velvety feeling in regards to its outer sheathe, she had never expected it to be so…so hard! He pulled her nipples and she moaned into his mouth once again before his mouth began to trail down her jawline, along her neck and down to her bosom.

He began to kiss her breasts and lick them. Sansa gasped and sighed in pleasure. His tongue ran over them and under them and then he took a nipple full in his mouth and began to suck. Sansa whimpered. Sandor continued his ministrations and lapped at the other nipple. He bit them too, but not too hard. "So soft," he muttered as his hand trailed along the flat of her stomach. He gazed at it sadly. One day that stomach would grow big and round with sons. Another man's sons and deep in the darkest corner of his heart, he wished that things could have been a little different. That Sansa's belly grew big with _his_ sons.

Sansa's hands came up to rest on his shoulders. "Do you still think I am a child?" Sandor looked up at her and held back a grimace. As much as he was enjoying this, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something sordid and filthy and that was fancy shit coming from a murderer like himself. "In many ways yes, but right now…no." She caressed his burnt cheek with her knuckles and Sandor began to kiss her belly. Whatever for, Sansa could not fathom. Perhaps it was a normal part of love making to kiss odd parts of the body. And that was something Sansa was soon to find out.

Suddenly, she felt Sandor's hot tongue against her left thigh. Her mouth opened in surprise but she didn't say anything. What was he doing? He tenderly licked her thigh in long languid strokes and Sansa relished in the feel of his hot mouth against the smooth pale skin. But she wasn't at all prepared for what he did next.

Without warning, Sandor grabbed both her thighs and pulled her close to his face. Before she could question him, she felt his tongue run its away along the inner folds of her wetness and that made her moan in surprise. "Sandor…" she panted in disbelief, but he ignored her shock. She was so ignorant about what happened in the bedroom that it wasn't even worth explaining to her. She could find out by herself.

His tongue continued to taste the intricate folds of her most secret part and he thoroughly savoured her scent and her taste. Meanwhile, Sansa had bunched his hair into her hand while the other gripped the sheets as she moaned and mewled and cried out his name. He loved hearing his name roll off her lips. His tongue moved up to the little pearl located on the upper part of her womanhood. Countless coming and goings with whores had taught him what women liked. He knew how to make them open up like flowers.

His tongue made its way over to that little sensitive area and if anything Sansa's cries became louder. No doubt they'd be muffled by the sounds of battle outside. "Sandor!" She groaned out and writhed as he continued his attention on her most sensitive place.

Sansa couldn't describe the feelings that overcame her. She couldn't even think properly. All she could feel, all she could think about was the hot place between her legs and how good Sandor was making it feel. The sensations were washing all over her body, but something else was happening too. She felt as if her body was coming to some certain overwhelming point and it wasn't long before that happened.

Everything began to feel like jelly. Her legs, her belly, her arms. Something was happening and her body began to tremble and shake. She never knew she could feel anything like this. She wasn't even sure how loud she had cried out, but to her ears it sounded like a scream. She also felt something gush out of her, but she was in too much of a daze to even contemplate on what that was. All she knew was that she was wet. So wet now that it had gone onto the sheets, although Sandor's mouth was still between her legs.

When the spasm was over, Sandor's mouth made its way from her womanhood and up to her stomach. He circled her bellybutton with his tongue before gently rubbing her thighs to soothe their trembling.

"Sandor," she said again in a hoarse whisper. She was breathing hard and her body was sweating. It was hot in here regardless, but he couldn't help but boil in passion for the site of her. This girl who was barely a woman. No older than fourteen. "Yes my lady?" He whispered back. She reached out to touch his face. Her expression was so soft. So tender. It only reminded him why he cared so much about her in the first place (not that he would ever let her know).

"I…" she didn't know what to say. He simply smiled at her and moved back up to kiss her lips. She could taste herself on him. She wrapped her arms around him and traced her fingers along the many scars on his body. Most probably from sword slashes and being hit by arrows. But she didn't see it as ugly. She saw them as a mark of honour. A testament of strength and courage.

She felt slightly embarrassed about the wetness between her legs and on the sheets, but Sandor didn't seem to mind. Was that supposed to happen? Was that normal? She was too shy to ask him. He broke away from her and wiped a few strands of hair away from her face. "You always had such beautiful blue eyes. Vibrant red hair to compliment them. A true Tully." The reference to her mother's house brought back the familiar sadness of being separated from her family, but she wasn't going to let the sadness ruin such a moment.

She smiled at him and kissed him gently and he spread her legs apart further and pressed his manhood against her heat. Sansa gasped feeling how hard and hot it was and how big. Could all that fit inside her? Sandor placed it against her entrance and used one hand to hold her shoulder. "It's going to hurt little bird. It's going to hurt a lot, but you do need to relax nevertheless," he said breathlessly.

Sansa took a deep breath and felt him attempt to push into her virgin barrier. Sansa, after what she had experienced, had not expected it to hurt despite Sandor's warnings. But it did. It hurt a lot. "Ah!" She cried out with an undignified yelp. Sandor paused a moment and watched as her face contorted to pain. He pitied her and felt bad for this, but it had to be done. This would be more merciful than what Joffery would have done on his wedding night with her and for once, Sandor could see why she wanted it to be him.

"Relax," he said again before pushing into her further. Sansa yelped again and her nails dug into his flesh enough to draw blood, but he kept pushing in. She was tight. Oh so very tight. So hot and yielding. "S-stop! Oh Gods stop please." Sandor stopped, but he didn't remove himself. Sansa was breathing hard and in an affectionate gesture, he placed a light kiss on her lips. "It has to be done little bird."

She looked at him in disbelief, but swallowed hard and nodded. He would not stop for her now. He pushed in and he pushed in deep as hard as it was. She was tight and she was resisting him, but there was nothing she could do to protect herself. He had expected her to cry more tears of virginal innocence, but instead she smacked him on the head as she cried out in pain. "Gods above," she seethed through her teeth. Perhaps the Stark girl had more spirit then he gave her credit for.

Her legs were trembling again, but in pain. Both their raspy breaths intermixed with each other. Sandor began to move in and out. Sansa let out whimpers here and there, but most of the time, she bit her lip. Hard enough to bleed. Sandor bent down to suck on her bleeding lips while he continued to move in and out between her thighs. Her groans of pain were muffled with his mouth over hers.

It continued like this for several minutes, but he took the pace up and slammed into her harder and faster. She whimpered and occasionally let out cries of pain when the friction became too strong, but he did not falter. It would have been a mercy for him to come quickly inside her, but he wanted to savour this. He didn't want it to end.

He kept up the laborious task until he could no more and gave in to Sansa's hot flesh. He released himself with a loud moan and almost collapsed on top of her. For several moments, they lay there together. Motionless. Panting. Sweating.

He moved off her and on to his side. Her legs were still apart, most likely from being in pain. Things were still loud outside. "Sansa," he muttered as he stroked her hair. She looked at him and let her thumb caress his bearded chin. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. She gave him a bland smile.

"Is it always going to be like that?" She asked him quietly, clearly referring to their love making. He stroked her hair gently. "You'll get use to it. The worst part is over. If you had a proper lover, perhaps after a few times, the final consummation would feel good. Indeed it does with practise, but…" he trailed off. He didn't have to say it. Sansa knew Joffery would never allow her such passions. He would hardly try to pleasure her the way Sandor had before entering her body.

"I'm glad it was you," she said to him. He kissed her lips, but knew they couldn't tarry. "You need to get dressed." The smile faded, but she did as he said and weakly pulled her aching body up. Even though there wasn't much light, Sandor could clearly see the blood splotch on the bed. Proof of it was stained on Sansa's thighs. She had bled more than usual, but maybe it was because she was so young.

She looked quite pale too. Grimly, Sandor jumped up and pulled open her oak chest to find her something suitable to wear. She accepted it gratefully, but Sandor could see she was trembling a little. "Go and sit down," he said and she did so on a nearby seat using the dress to hide her shame. Sandor rummaged about the room until he found some spare linen and proceeded to rip it. He then grabbed a jug of cool water and poured it into a bowl and brought it to Sansa. "Clean yourself up before you get dressed." Blushing, she accepted the items wordlessly while he turned away and grabbed his garments. As he proceeded to place on his clothes, he wondered if Sansa was starting to regret what they had just done.

She was awfully quiet now, but that was probably because she was in pain and feeling a little shameful.

Sansa sighed as she pressed the cool wet linen cloth against her thighs and her privates. Her fluids, blood and his seed had made a complete mess between her legs. She hadn't expected it to be so messy. There was a stinging aching rawness between her thighs, but she pushed it out of her mind. It was of little consequence now. She could feel and smell Sandor all over her. When she was satisfied that she had cleaned herself up, she slipped into her dress and grabbed her night robe to place over it.

Sandor was already fully dressed and was holstering his swords now. Sansa didn't know what to say to him. Once Sandor was satisfied that he was fully clad, he proceeded to make it over to the fire place and kindle it. The logs lit up and Sansa wasn't sure why he was doing that. It was hot enough already.

"Sandor," she began, unsure of his motives at the moment. He simply ignored it and grabbed the bloodstained sheet off the bed and proceeded to rip it. "We'll have to hide the evidence Sansa. Your dress, the one that is ripped. Hide it. Put it away and make a good excuse for its ruin." She did as she was bid by him knowing she could easily ask Shae to dispose of it for her without any questions asked. Indistinctly, she watched as Sandor torched the bloodstained sheets they had just made love on and dissolve within the fire. When that was finished after several minutes, only then did he turn to her with a hard look that made her shift uncomfortably.

"Sansa, you are a good liar. Make sure you speak nothing of this to no one. Not your handmaidens, not your family. Nobody you come to trust. Because as soon as the words leave your lips or someone deciphers the truth from your behaviour, Joffery's wrath will be unimaginable." She nodded her head. He made no move to comfort her or so such affection. Perhaps he thought of her as sullied now. Why was he being so cold?

"It would…displease me if you had to suffer such a horrible fate." Even though the words held no emotion, Sansa felt the warmth of them. She guessed she understood why he was being cold now. He was saying farewell. "I'll never forget you Sandor Clegane."

He sneered, but it was a playful sneer nonetheless. "Stay safe Lady Sansa, my little bird." And with that said, he turned away without a kiss or a caress. He turned away and left, leaving her standing motionless in the room.

Sansa's fist clenched and then unclenched. She struggled not to cry.

Sandor Clegane had left her and she couldn't go with him.

* * *

**A/N: I in no way endorse pedophelia of any kind. This is simply a different world and set at a time when people were expected to grow up faster. Adults and children were treated much the same and the harshness of the environment made it crucial for early mental and physical development for reproduction and survival of the species. Perfectly understandable for such a time period. I had originally intended this to be a oneshot, but I could see a plot spinning in my mind. I have watched Season 1 and 2 of the HBO series and read part of the first book and a little of the second. I mainly go on to the fire and song wiki to fill in black holes. But anyway I hope you like this and please review. Would love to know what you think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Lyanna's Poem  
**

* * *

Sansa stood on the balcony and peered over at the members of the court with disinterest. The room was full of Lannisters and Tyrells and as she had heard, it had been them that had pushed Lord Stannis back. A feat Sansa had been disheartened by. In the back of her mind she had been looking forward to seeing Joffery's head mounted up upon a spike. However, there was no use keeping such optimistic notions now.

Mutedly, Sansa wondered if she should have fled with the Hound instead. Thinking of him made her stomach feel like a bottomless pit. She could still feel him between her thighs. Come the morning, she had still been bleeding a little and had ordered Shae to draw her a bath to take away Sandor's scent. That aching rawness was still there, but it was much fainter now. She could still taste him on her lips, could still envision his hot mouth pleasuring the most intimate part of her body and could still feel him kissing her breasts.

Where was he now? Was he safe? Was he alright? She inwardly smiled to herself. She was glad he was free even though she was still a prisoner. With a quiet sigh, she turned her gaze on to Loras Tyrell.

"If there is anything you wish to ask of me, ask now and it shall be yours," Joffery said with every tone of his voice dripping with arrogance. Sansa saw him as nothing more than a coward now, but Westeros was no longer a place where justice flourished or a place you could speak against your king. For once, she could see past Robert Baratheon's drunken and whorish behaviour. Despite all that, he had been a good king and nothing like his cruel and narcissistic son. Even though the previous king reminded her of nothing more than a farting pig.

Loras Tyrell was kneeling humbly and cleared his throat to ask what he wanted. A knighthood perhaps? "I have a maiden sister, Margaery, the delight of our house. She was wed to Renly Baratheon as you know, but he went to war before the marriage could be consummated, so she remained innocent. My sister has heard tales of your bravery, wisdom and courage and has come to love you from afar. It would be a great honour if you would take her to wife and join our houses for all time."

Immediately the court erupted in heated conversation, but Maester Pycelle demanded silence. Joffery looked upon him in contemplation, but didn't delay his reply. "Your sister's beauty is famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms, but I am promised to another. A king must keep his oath."

Sansa resisted the urge to scoff. Joffery was not known for keeping his oaths, but the fact that he wanted to keep her, astounded her to no end. He didn't love her and often punished her for her brother's crimes when he could. Perhaps he was addicted to her suffering. He definitely enjoyed causing her much pain and distress.

The High Septon came forward. "Your Grace, the oath is no longer valid. Your father, may the Gods bless his soul, made this pact with the Starks before they became traitors to the Crown. Their crimes have rendered your vow invalid and as far as the Faith is concerned, there is no binding between you and Lady Sansa Stark."

The people began to cheer and chant for Margaery. The woman in question from where she was standing looked flattered beyond belief, but Sansa couldn't help the panging within her chest. _Set me free _she said a silent prayer to the Gods. For once they listened.

"If the oath no longer binds me then I would be glad to wed your sister." The cheers erupted and Sansa was overcome with overwhelming happiness and relief. She didn't show it though. With her head bent low in mock sadness, she turned away from the ladies on the balcony as they whispered about her and moved away. She let out a laugh of happiness and smiled despite herself, however someone's hand clasped her shoulder. She immediately whirled around to see Lord Baelish regarding her with a sympathetic glance.

"Don't get your hopes up dear Sansa. You are not free yet. Just because King Joffery's oath to you is broken does not mean he will cease to humiliate you and torture you. He can still enjoy you in bed too, but it won't be heirs he'll spill into your belly, but bastards." Sansa gulped and looked to the ground. Lord Baelish reached out to stoke her cheek. It was almost enough to make her shudder. As nice as he was to her, she couldn't help this feeling of mistrust. That and she didn't like any man touching her in such away. No one except for Sandor Clegane.

"But fear not. There may be a way to get you out of here yet. You need to leave Sansa and save yourself. I can help you." She looked up at him in surprise, but didn't trust herself to say anything. He smiled at her, but his smile looked like the bearing of teeth. "Stay strong my lady." With that said, he marched off leaving her standing there quite forlorn.

Lord Baelish wanted to help her escape? Why? Whatever for? He had nothing to gain from saving her and although she had heard he had a powerful admiration and love for her mother, he exercised no help or influence when it came to pardoning her father. Sansa did not trust him. Gathering her wits, she made her way back to her chambers. No doubt she would be much forgotten by the rabble, celebrations and feasting of the court. She supposed she would content herself with doing some sewing and read in the isolation of her chambers.

None of her handmaidens were there for which she was grateful. Instead, Sansa bolted her door and grabbed a book to read on her bed. It was simply the history of Targaryen rule, a gift from her brother Robb some time ago. She had read it multiple times, up until the death of Prince Rhaegar. Her thoughts wondered over to her long time deceased aunt Lyanna. Such a tragic tale and one she couldn't imagine. In many ways she felt like Lyanna. An abducted prisoner except unlike Lyanna, she had escaped a ruined reputation through rape and had thus far still lived.

What was it like for her poor aunt to be trapped in a tower and raped every night by the Targaryen prince? Sansa could not even imagine, but she certainly did not want to share such a similar fate. Simpering to herself, she continued her attention into her book before a light knock at the door brought her back to her senses. Feeling a little bit alarmed, Sansa hopped off her bed and straightened up. Whoever it was, she told her herself that she must remain calm.

Gingerly, she opened the door and was relieved to see it was only Shae with a tray of food. "I was wondering where you skipped off to my lady," she mused as she shut the door behind her and set down her tray. Sansa's stomach rumbled at the scent of the roast beef, chicken soup and hot baked bread spread with butter. She hadn't eaten all day.

"Thank you Shae," she said humbly and took a seat to eat some dinner. Shae smiled and lent against a corner in the room. "The court is quite busy feasting in the main halls. Are you sure you don't want to join them?" Sansa gave Shae a look that said it all. Shae chuckled and Sansa resumed eating.

"You seem so different today," Shae noted making Sansa go rigid. "How so?" She muttered in feign disinterest as she nibbled on some bread. Shae straightened up and composed herself. She made a slow casual walk to where Sansa was sitting. "Oh you seem so much more confident and lively. As if nothing could hurt you and I do not think it was simply because King Joffery set you aside. You were walking on air this morning despite the fact that you were bleeding."

Sansa swallowed down her food not quite sure what the woman was getting at. "Queen Cersei said it was common in the first year or so to have irregular bleeding." Shae smiled at her idly, but pressed on. "Blood that lasted a few hours this morning? How very odd." Sansa felt her mouth go dry. She didn't like how playful her handmaiden was getting. So far it seemed as if Shae suspected her maidenhead had ruptured, but that could have happened due to anything, not betraying her chastity.

"It is indeed," Sansa replied, refusing to be baited. Shae was starting to get irritated and placed her hands down on either side of the table. "Sansa," she chastised teasingly making the girl look up. She was good at hiding her expression, but Shae knew better. In a low voice, Shae said "I know maidenheads can be ruptured doing all sorts of things like horseback riding. Some women bleed a little and others none at all. Some bleed a lot, but those that bleed to such an extent did not have their maidenheads ruptured by mere sport. It would take a man to do that."

Sansa went cold and straightened up. How could she know? How could she suspect? All that from a little blood? "I-I don't know what…" Shae merely sighed and patted her on the head. "I won't say anything, but I would suggest no longer seeing this lover any more. Your eyes betray you." Sansa swallowed hard. They had not been lovers really. Her and Sandor...their relationship was complicated.

"Don't worry about that Shae. I assure you nothing will happen." She wasn't sure if it was worth denying it, but she trusted Shae to keep silent about it. The woman went out of her way to protect her. Shae was quiet for several moments before pulling up a seat and sitting opposite Sansa. "How was it," she whispered to her. Sansa went red in the face and was definitely considering pushing the woman away and ordering her to leave, but…

She just wanted to spill it to someone and Shae was one of the only people she could trust. Looking to the closed door like a paranoid chicken, Sansa turned back to the expectant Shae and licked her lips. "It was very painful, at least when he entered me." Shae stifled a giggle, but it was poorly done.

"That's normal given how young you are. Who was it?" Sansa pursed her lips. That was a secret she would take to the grave. "No one important. Some stable lad I think." Shae widened her eyes in disbelief and then laughed. Sansa continued to blush. "Lady Stark who would have thought!" Sansa urged her to hush. Shae placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'm just glad my lady did something for herself for once. An act of defiance," Shae said brusquely. Sansa spared her a nervous smile and returned to her meal. It had certainly been worth it, but it left her with a sense of regret and longing. She wished she had departed with the Hound last night, but leaving would have had implications she wouldn't have been able to envisage.

Sighing to herself, she wondered what the Hound would do now. Where would he go? What would he do? She had no idea. "The queen says that you are to remain her ward." Sansa peered up and concealed a snort. She hadn't expected anything less. So she was still a hostage. She was still to be ransomed for Jaime Lannister, but somehow Sansa knew that once the queen's brother was safe at King's Landing, she would not be honourably returned. The thought made her mood turn sour and she ordered Shae to help her out of her dress and into bed. At least for now she could fall into the safety of dreamless sleep.

* * *

A week passed and Sansa was overlooked and forgotten by the court. Joffery seemed to hold no interest in her and instead spent his time 'adoring' his betrothed and sitting on the Iron Throne. Of course Cersei kept her well-guarded, but Sansa was finding herself more and more lonely. Only Shae took it upon herself to keep Sansa company and that was limited in itself. Although Sansa was grateful to be alone, she began to miss Sandor.

She had never really looked for him or cared before, but he had always been there for her. Always within her sights. No doubt he would have conversed with her had he been on guard duty. Inconceivably, Sansa found herself feeling a little angry at him. If he had never abandoned that battle then he wouldn't have had to leave. Although they probably would have never made love then. Still though, since Joffery had put her aside then perhaps something could have sparked between them if he had stayed.

Sansa bit her lip. Those were foolish thoughts. Not only would it have been too dangerous, she doubted Sandor would have consented to spoiling her flower in that way. They had only made love that night as an act of wilful defiance and as a goodbye to each other. But it didn't deny the fact that she was starting to miss his presence. Sighing, she walked absentmindedly along the halls until she heard the rustling of skirts and lively conversation spring nearby. Before Sansa could turn away and avoid any confrontations, the group in question stepped out of the halls directly in line of her vision.

At once she recognized who it was. "Lady Margaery," Sansa said with a low curtsey. Margaery stopped short with her ladies behind her and gave Sansa a peculiar look. More like a look of interest. "Lady Sansa. No need for such formality. Please, I bid you to rise." Sansa did as she commanded and found that Margaery was smiling at her in kindness. It wasn't something she expected from a girl who had just usurped her position. Perhaps the smile was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"I have seldom seen you around. A shame it is really for such a sweet and beautiful girl like yourself." The compliment sounded sincere enough, but Sansa was on her guard. "Thank you my lady," she replied without inflection. Margaery gave her a wide beam and gestured her hand out to her. "Come. Walk with us." Puzzled by Margaery's kindness for her, Sansa did as she was bid and followed her.

Maybe she was being a little too harsh on the girl. She was probably only doing her family's bidding and she would soon find out what a monster Joffery is. "You should come and have dinner with me some time. A private gathering. Just me and my grandmother. I am sure you need some women to talk to," Margaery said happily. Sansa only nodded in response. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"Pray tell, what have you been doing to occupy yourself Lady Sansa?" The slip of conversation was innocent enough. "Um…reading and sewing my lady. I am seldom needed at court anymore and simply wait on Her Majesty's behalf. I hope you are finding King's Landing to your liking." Margaery made a nonchalant hmmm sound and led her out to the gardens.

"Well I think you should come out more and enjoy the scenery and the festivities of the court. No need for a flower to bloom in darkness." Every tenor of her voice was dripping with honesty and compassion. Sansa was finding it incredibly hard to dislike her, but she knew better than to trust. No doubt she would be kind and courteous to Lady Margaery as she was to everyone, but she couldn't allow herself to spill any secrets to anyone else. Shae was just enough.

"It would do me great honours if you would consent to be my chief lady in waiting. Not a handmaiden, but a confidant and companion. It would please me greatly if we could become friends and no doubt you will have more things to do and not have to abide by yourself." Surprised by the generous invitation, Sansa began to weigh the pros and cons of it. She would indeed have to make more appearances being at Margaery's side and that meant being thrown in the direction of Joffery again, but on the other hand, Margaery could provide her with some sense of companionship and more importantly, protection.

"I would be honoured my lady. I do not know how I can thank you for such thoughtfulness." Margaery simply smiled at her and linked arms with hers. "You can thank me by being a good friend. Right now I am choosing some flowers to plant in my own private garden. A gift from the king. Care to help me choose?" Despite her melancholy sadness, Sansa couldn't help but let a bland smile fill out over her lips. "I would love to."

When Sansa returned back to her rooms that night, she couldn't help but feel slightly blissful with how things were going. Lady Margaery was bestowing upon her every kind of diplomacy and Sansa was no longer the eye or interest of the court. Although she was sure the people had praised Margaery for the compassion she was showing her.

Confident that she would no longer suffer any abuse, Sansa had Shae remove her gowns and place on a clean linen shift for her sleep tonight. They didn't speak about much and Sansa requested that she leave so she could take to bed early. Her handmaiden was more than willing to comply and with a slight curtsey, left her to her own devices. Sansa jumped on her bed and immediately took out her book on Targaryen history. This time she began to read about Aerys, the mad king.

As she flipped the page, she saw the cover binding was coming off and frowned demurely. Perhaps she could arrange to have another binding over it to prevent the book from falling apart. She attempted to fix the inner binding, but found that the glue that kept it together had long since dried up. Frustrated, she attempted to smooth it down with the palm of her hand, but as she did so, she felt a light bump under the lining.

Bewildered and curious, Sansa felt it a little more. There was clearly something under the leather binding, but what could it be? Immediately, she began to pry under the leather binding and was very much surprised to find a folded piece of paper. It was old and rotted yellow so she handled it with care. What exactly was it doing there in her book?

Licking her lips, she gently unfolded the letter and peered at the inky black words.

_The wind blows south and the seas move north_

_Soldiers and men will shed blood and go fourth_

_Women and children will cry and wail_

_But the one who heeds this note should set sail _

_From henceforth head to the marches of Dorne _

_There you shall behold what the Gods have born_

_A frosty path in the mountains will lead you to gold_

_The gold shall lead to Tarth with a sword to behold_

_The sword will bloody your way to Dragonstone _

_And there the Lord of Light shall present you with a marble Dragon's bone_

_Head as far north to the Wall that protects us from terrors_

_But slip through the Arms of the black coat protectors _

_Present the blind eyed Maester with the two items you have claimed_

_And he shall give you a thornless rose as recompense for your game_

_If you are worthy, it will give you truth and valour_

_But if not, fear for what will make you cower_

_The Rose shall purify your bloodline and reap what you have sewn_

_Making you worthy to sit on the Iron Throne. _

Sansa read the note breathlessly. What was this? What could it possibly mean? Was it some sort of poem? She looked at the bottom of it and struggled to make out the signature. But it didn't take her long to decrypt it.

_Lyanna Stark. _

Well it made sense as to why it was within her book. It had been a family heirloom and Robb had said that it belonged to Lyanna before she died. Did Lyanna write this? She would have if she was the one who signed it. But what did it mean? Sansa ran her eyes over the words again. It sounded like a quest, but perhaps it had been one of the many reflections of Lyanna's poetry. Still…the words of the poem were unlike any she had heard before. What did she mean about this Thornless Rose? Was it a metaphor? How did it make one worthy to sit upon the Iron Throne?

Feeling slightly troubled by it, Sansa continued to reflect and even though all the lines linked together, she couldn't understand their context. In fact the first few lines didn't even connect to the last. Winds blowing and seas moving with men in battle and women and children crying in terror. Was it asking the reader to be vigilant and escape from all this on this quest?

It seemed so, but Sansa had never had the arts of seeing things that were not there or reading between the lines. An art she wished she possessed. It would have helped her greatly at court. Holding Lyanna's poem meaningfully, Sansa had one last read over the lines before gently folding the paper up and placing it back in its hiding place. She supposed tomorrow night and the nights to come, she could spend her time pondering over the words and asking innocent questions to men of knowledge. Smiling and feeling strangely optimistic, Sansa slipped into her bed and pulled the covers all the way to her chin. Lyanna Stark was even more of an enigma to Sansa than she was before, but Sansa welcomed the thought. It brought her mind away from the current problems at hand.

Closing her eyes, Sansa sunk in deeper to her covers and tried to let sleep overcome her, but her thoughts as they always did before she slept, went to Sandor. And this time she dreamt about him.

"_Sandor?" She echoed through the empty halls of the Iron Throne room. He was standing in front of the stairs that led to the small metal pylon. "Sandor…" she said again, but he didn't turn to her. It was then she noticed her surroundings. No longer were the red adornments and the banner of the Stag decorating the Iron throne room. _

_Instead it was a mixture of damask fabrics of white with gold threading. Behind the Iron Throne was a huge banner with the Stark sigil of the dire wolf. It's threading was of silver, but all the embroidery on the banner was sewn in gold. That wasn't what amazed her though. It was the fact that sewn in black in front of the dire wolf was the sigil for the House Clegane. Three hound dogs in front, but behind the dire wolf was the sigil for the House Targaryen, also in black. It was quite a sight to behold and Sansa didn't understand the significance of it._

_The pillars within the Iron throne room were adorned with vines of blooming red roses. "Sandor," she said again hoping to illicit a response from him. He did not turn around. Cautiously, she walked up to him and was surprised to find him cradling a new born baby in his arms. A boy or a girl she didn't know. _

"_We'll get your mother back," he whispered to the child. "We'll get her back even if it is the death of me." Sansa watched the scene with her heart hammering in her chest. What did he mean? Was this his child? Who was the baby's mother? Was it his wife? His lover? _

_She tried to say his name again and reach out to touch him, but her hand ran right through him. Well at least now she understood why he didn't reply to her. Swallowing hard, she watched him walk away leaving her alone in the Iron throne room. _

"_She left him to go to the Wall. She promised to stay with him and she has left him for the Wall."_

_Sansa only just became aware that there was someone standing next to her. She was startled to see a beautiful woman beside her in nothing but a long plain white cotton shift. The lower part of it, where her thighs came together was stained with blood as was the back of it. _

_However, Sansa couldn't shake from herself that there was something so very familiar about the woman. "Who did?" She asked feeling a little wary. Why was this woman bleeding so much? Was she injured? It seemed as if she was suffering from a horrible miscarriage. _

_The woman turned to her, her lips set in a thin line, but it was in benediction not in blight. _

"_You did." _

Sansa woke up with a gasp and found that daylight had already filled the room. Shae would be coming in to help her get ready soon, but Sansa found she needed the current moments of solitude to mull over her dream.

It had seemed so clear and vivid. Unlike any dream she had had before, but that wasn't what bothered her the most. It was the nature of it. It almost seemed as if…as if…it was _her _on the Iron Throne. Her or Sandor and the child in his arms was theirs. The conception made her laugh out loud. What a dream! A strange dream, but a wild one no less. Although she preferred it to what she usually dreamed about.

Shae's sudden entry brought back her poise and she smiled at her handmaiden. Shae smiled back at her slowly. "You're getting more content with each passing day," Shae commented. Sansa merely shrugged in response and ordered Shae to draw her a bath with her favourite rose water and lemon oils. Margaery had asked her to help choose the style and cut of her wedding gown today and Sansa was all too willing to help her.

Relaxing in her hot bath, Sansa began to think about her dream and its significance. Did it mean anything? Then she thought of Lyanna's poem about the Iron Throne. Only those who were worthy could sit on it and Joffery was anything, but worthy. _But the one who heads this note should sail. _That line stuck with her the most. Was such a tale really something to heed?

Sana sank back and let her hair soak up the water. She ran her fingers through her auburn locks and thought about Sandor again. He had said she was beautiful; that she looked like a true Tully. His words indeed made her feel beautiful and so sure of herself. Thinking of him brought a smile to her lips. _Sandor…_

If only she had left with him. If only he had stayed. Such wistful thinking. There was no future for them nor would there ever be. She would only ever remember him as the first man who had taken her and the only man who had shown her such kindness during her time of despair. It didn't matter what her dreams told her. She supposed she would dream of him for a time and then he would be far from her thoughts. No more than a happy memory. Asking Shae to bring her some linen to dry her with, Sansa stepped out of the tub and chose out a pale green dress to wear today. She'd have her hair pulled back the same as she wore it on the day of Princess Myrcella's parting.

Shae dressed her in silence and that is when Sansa decided to ask her a few 'innocent' questions. "Shae, have you ever heard of something called the Thornless Rose?" Shae stopped at her lacing abruptly and hovered over Sansa. "Thornless Rose? I mean I have heard of a rose without thorns…"

Sansa pulled up a sleeve that was slipping off her shoulder and Shae resumed lacing. "You haven't heard anything alluding to it? Some sort of metaphorical saying about it?" Shae shook her head and tied the final knot at the back of her gown. Sansa turned to face her and Shae crossed her arms. "I have heard of a woman in the north called the Queen of Love and Beauty. It is rumoured that a Targaryen prince called her his thornless rose because she loved blue roses so much."

Sansa looked down. She knew exactly who Shae was talking about, but the handmaiden wasn't educated on the noble men and women of the Houses to know whom these rumours referred to. "Yes I have heard those stories too. Thank you Shae. Shall we go?" The handmaiden nodded and followed Sansa Stark out of the room.

_And he shall give you a thornless rose as recompense for his game. _Sansa was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. It seemed there were double meanings in those words. But now was not the time to be untangling hidden meanings in her aunt's long lost poetry.

Shae followed her wordlessly through the halls. Most people ignored her, some threw a polite nod her way and others whispered when she walked past. Sansa had no care for them. She had learnt long ago what a place of treachery the southern court was.

She was given admittance to Margaery's luxurious chambers and was greeted warmly by the queen to be. "It is good of you to come Lady Sansa. Have you eaten breakfast? No? Than you must dine with me. The king is expecting us in the throne room and after that we'll be able to choose the wedding fabrics from the seamstress."

Her voice was full of delight, but Sansa couldn't help the sense of dread she felt at being admitted into Joffery's presence again. It's not like she could avoid him forever. "Sounds enchanting my lady," Sansa remarked humbly. Margaery beamed at her and Sansa wondered how it was possible for a woman to harbour so many smiles.

She bid her to sit down and ordered the servants to bring them various assortments of food. Baked bread, pork, fruit, honey and figs. Sansa bit into a delicious peach and looked out the window to see a little bird perched on the window sill. A sad smile placated her face. If only she had wings. Then she could fly and be free. She could be her own woman and do as she willed.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Sansa turned her gaze to Margaery who was staring at the little bird too. "See the red on its breast? They say such birds use to have pure white feathers at their front. Apparently a Targaryen princess of old was fond of them. Until she got stabbed in the heart. She was wearing a white dress too and the blood spilled out all over her gown. From that day fourth, the birds she so loved grew red feathers on their breasts."

Sansa took a sip of wine and savoured its sickly sweet taste. "Why was she stabbed?" Margaery shrugged. "Who knows? It was just a story I was told as a child. It probably isn't true. I never even heard of such a princess in the Targaryen history."

Sansa looked back at the window sill, but found that the little bird was gone.

"Neither have I."

The throne room was fairly full with various members of the court. Sansa took her place upon a balcony, but Margaery was placed in a seat next to Queen Cersei. Joffery was listening to some reports on Robb's movements by one of his Lannister cousins and Sansa was very self-conscious. Whenever her family's treachery was named, Joffery would have her beaten and humiliated in any way he could.

As the report also mentioned that he had taken a wife, Sansa felt an inward paroxysm within her body. It wasn't a bad one, but she was stunned to say the least. Robb had married? Taken a queen? So she had a new sister in law. If only she could have been safe in Robb's camp to meet her. As Joffery was listening, his gaze wandered over to the balcony where she was standing. As soon as their eyes locked, Sansa feared the worst. Perhaps he would direct a crude comment her way or ask her to come down and kneel before him so his guards could beat her. Instead he just glared at her disdainfully and looked away. Surprised and yet so grateful he had decided not to abuse her at the current moment, Sansa made sure her line of direction and attention was focused elsewhere lest their eyes meet again. When the main subjects in the hall were over, Margaery departed and Sansa followed her ladies inconspicuously out of the hall. She didn't want anyone to notice her, but she doubted the intense brightness of her Tully hair would help her much.

Margaery smiled at her when they re-joined and linked arms with her. "Come, the fabrics have arrived. I have decided my ladies will wear an emerald green as my bridesmaids. Perhaps you can help me choose the style." Sansa nodded, slightly glad to have some to do to keep her mind occupied.

Another week passed with her being totally unnoticed by all save for Lady Margaery and Sansa was no closer to deciphering the words of Lyanna's poem. There wasn't anyone she found she could ask as of late and she didn't like Maester Pycelle enough to even consider questioning him. He had always been openly against her. Perhaps she could ask Lord Baelish?

She reached up to touch her temples as she felt another throbbing headache come about. They had been plaguing her for the last few days along with slight backache. Perhaps her courses were coming soon. Indeed they were due in a few days although the Queen had told her not to be worried if they were a little late or early because she had just started her bloodletting.

Still, these headaches and backaches were a little more intense than what she had experienced before her first flowering. Not only that, but she found herself becoming easily tired and in need for more sleep.

Being a woman was bothersome indeed.

* * *

**A/N: Please review. It helps me write. I hope you are all enjoying it so far. Just remember I haven't read through the books and only have the first two which I skim through so I have to make do with wiki readings and the TV show. Margaery seems nice enough from what I have gathered about her. **

**But things are going to get tricky for Sansa when her maladies start to intensify :D  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Legends of Old**

* * *

The chill in the air was unlike any other she had ever experienced. Not that it was cold. She had noticed it had become colder of course, but this cool air was something different. It sunk right through to the bones. Sansa grimaced and wrapped her shawl around herself even tighter. Margaery's wedding was to be at the end of the month and all the preparations had been made. Her gown was almost finished by the seamstresses and she had insisted on Sansa being one of her bridesmaids.

Sansa had wanted to protest, but since Joffery was leaving her alone, she decided she wouldn't complain. "You're looking quite gaunt these days little dove. Very pale too." Sansa looked to the queen who had requested her presence within her chamber. It was simply meaningless conversation, but it seemed Cersei wanted to catch up with her.

"I have not been feeling well Your Grace. Must be the weather because it is changing," Sansa explained. Her occasional headaches and backaches had gotten a little worse and every night when she retired for bed, she would collapse into the pillows. Shae had even remarked that she was rising later than usual. It wasn't entirely Sansa's fault though. All she desired was to sleep. If she could get away with it, she would have taken afternoon naps, but Lady Margaery always insisted upon her presence.

What was worse though is Sansa on various occasions had begun to feel nauseated. It would pass, but it was very annoying and often had her excusing herself to her room for several minutes to rest and let it pass. Sometimes it made her dizzy. "Yes, you haven't been eating as much. Are you feeling alright little dove?"

Mustering up a fake smile for the queen, Sansa gave her a confident nod. "Yes Your Majesty. Thank you for asking. Just some occasional backaches." Cersei's eyes narrowed and Sansa found herself shifting uncomfortably. "Sounds like your monthlies will be coming upon you soon. It has been almost a month now or more. It is a bother, I know, but part of being a woman."

Feigning humble gratitude, Sansa nodded and continued her sewing. She felt the queen's eyes linger upon her for a few moments longer before she too started sewing. "I am told you've taken an interest in reading to occupy your time. Tell me Sansa, why the intrigue?" Sansa licked her lips. A nervous habit she had picked up, but she hoped it wasn't noticeable. "Not an intrigue Your Grace. Just merely an activity to pass the time and become more knowledgeable about the world."

She heard the queen snort, but she didn't dare look up at her. "You think you can gain knowledge of the world by reading books?" The sardonic tone in her voice wasn't hard to miss, but Sansa wouldn't show that she was upset by it. Cersei had always given her snide remarks.

"No Your Grace, but perhaps an idea." The queen scoffed at that, but Sansa remained silent. She knew better. "Books lie to you and they contain nothing of value. They always seem to sugar coat the harsh truth about anything and everything. You won't get knowledge of the world from books little dove. You'll get it from experiencing the world."

Oh, Sansa had experienced the world alright. She had learned the harsh truths and seen all manners of horrors, all at the hand of Joffery. "What are you making?" The queen inquired, but the disinterest was evident in her voice. Sansa looped another fine red thread. "Just a small little tapestry banner to place in my room. A rose."

The queen raised her brow. "A rose? Whatever for?" Sansa smiled wanly and continued to sew. "Oh no particular reason Your Grace. I just think roses are beautiful." The queen said nothing and bit off a piece of thread to begin a new embroider pattern. "Perhaps Lady Maegery would prefer you to make something else. I am already starting to sew clothes for the future prince as should you."

Sansa wordlessly nodded. Cersei let out a frustrated sigh and stood up. Taking initiative, Sansa stood up with her and looked at her expectantly. "You may leave. I am sure my son's betrothed has some tasks for you to do. Perhaps I'll see you again for another private chat within the week." Nodding and giving the queen a low curtsey, Sansa departed hoping to reach her room and have a few private moments to herself.

If anything, she was glad to have been out of the queen's presence. Just being in the same room with Cersei was suffocating enough. Shutting and bolting her door, Sansa went over to her bed and reached under the mattress to grab the notes she had been making the last few weeks on Lyanna's poetry. She had some idea of what the first few lines meant, but these were her own interpretations.

_The wind blows south and the seas move north_

She took that to mean that Winter was coming. The freezing blizzards from the north would undoubtedly sweep to the south and the oceans tended to rise in their level and bring about freezing hurricanes and other storms. At least as far as she had gathered. She hadn't experienced a real winter, but as a Stark girl, she had been taught all about it.

_Soldiers and men will shed blood and go forth_

It definitely meant war, but Sansa was more curious about the differentiation between soldiers and men. They were one and the same were they not? Or did men mean civilians? Would they join and shed blood? Whose blood? Who were they fighting against? And where were they going? Go forth to where? Decorously, Sansa jotted down a few more notes. It seemed a war with soldiers and men would come about during the coming of the Winter. Sort of like now.

Sansa froze and skimmed over the first two lines. It was getting colder and the realm was in the midst of battle. Sansa felt her throat go dry. The words described the current situation perfectly even if its tune was ambiguous.

_Women and children will cry and wail_

Shuddering a little, Sansa remembered the riot that had happened some weeks ago. The faces of the hungry women and children. The accusing glares of the men in the city and the ones that had tried to rape her to have their fill. And then of course the riot broke out leading to numerous beatings, murders and rapes. _Women and children will cry and wail. _Perhaps they were wailing all over the realm. Loyalty was divided and innocent towns would be pillaged and ruined. Women and children would be the ones to suffer. Sansa noted that too. It was interesting how she could compare Lyanna's poetry to the current events that were shaking the kingdom today.

_But the one who heeds this note should set sail_

So much for her seeing it as poetry. Lyanna had written a warning, what could it possibly mean? What did she have to heed exactly? The war? She frowned and couldn't think of anything else to add to that except that the line specifically said 'sail.' Although that might have been for rhymes sake. Needless to say there was something in Dorne to find and Sansa was curious. Was it literal? Was there really something there? Had Lyanna Stark ever been to Dorne?

Deciding she had attempted to decipher as much as she could, Sansa folded the notes and placed them back in their hiding place along with the Targaryen history book. The queen and many others had spies everywhere and she didn't want something like this to fall into Cersei's hands. Even if it was meaningless poetry drizzle.

Simpering to herself, Sansa went to her window and peered out over the view she had of King's Landing. She would give anything to be back at Winterfell again with her little brothers. At least there she would have security and safety. Would the Hound have honoured his word and taken her back home? She honestly thought so, but then again she was a young girl still ignorant of the minds of men in many ways. And that was definitely saying something since she had let someone like the Hound take her virginity.

There was a knock on her door and reluctantly, Sansa went to answer it. It was one of Margaery's page boys. "What is it?" The boy bowed. He was the nervous type, but Sansa found it in her heart to smile at him. The nervous ones were usually the kind ones. "Lady Margaery begs your presence within her chambers for the f-fitting of her gown." Sansa nodded and cleared her throat for a kindly worded reply. "You may tell her ladyship that I will come as soon as possible and would gladly see the fitting for her dress."

The page nodded, still shaking a little in nervous fear and suddenly Sansa was struck by a facetious thought. If the boy had been talking to the Hound, he'd have probably pissed himself. It was almost enough to make Sansa laugh. And then that concealed laughter almost brought tears to her eyes. She should have gone with him. Her brothers would have protected her in Winterfell and she doubted Joffery would waste precious men to bring her back. She was hardly his plaything any longer. He often ignored her.

Smiling to herself sadly, Sansa took a look at herself in the mirror and for once saw that Queen Cersei was right. She was starting to look a little gaunt and pale. Mostly because her appetite had changed and she couldn't stomach much food without feeling nauseated after every meal. Or perhaps it was the subconscious strain of everything that had happened to her. Well…if she lost her looks perhaps she wouldn't stand out so much. Sighing, she smoothed out her gown and made her way to Margaery's chambers.

"Lady Sansa," Margaery exclaimed. Sansa could see her dressed in an unmade gown of damask ivory with two seamstresses fixing the sleeves and taking measurements. "My lady you look absolutely stunning," and she meant it too. White suited Lady Margaery as if she was a goddess of purity. Sansa walked up to her and gently felt the fineness of the material between her fingers. Embroidered in a cream shade of thread were various flowers of House Tyrell. Margaery would indeed be a real beauty on her wedding day.

"Thank you Lady Sansa and look over there," she said pointing to yards of green damask and silk embroidered with gold threads over the bed and chairs. "For the bridesmaids?" Margaery nodded and Sansa went to inspect it. The fabric was fine indeed, but she wondered how the Crown could afford all these fine things. Her father had said that the royal treasury was greatly in debt.

"It's beautiful," Sansa complimented feeling quite pitying for the girl. Although Joffery wasn't cruel to her (so far) who knows what he would do once they were put to bed. She had heard what he had done to those whores. "Care for something to eat? Help yourself." She gestured over to the table adorned with sweetmeats, sugar pies and fruits. Sansa immediately went for the peaches.

She had requested some peaches be brought to her a few days earlier and they had been conveyed courtesy for Lord Baelish. Sansa didn't know why she had developed such a taste for them, but she had craved them day and night for the last couple of days. The soft flesh, the sickly sweet juice, the burst of flavour in her mouth. She couldn't think of anything more.

"You like peaches?" Sansa quickly swallowed her morsel and turned to Margaery. "Why yes. I never had peaches much back in Winterfell. Quite a delicacy over there, but thanks to you, I am addicted to them." Margaery chuckled and gave an order to one of the seamstresses. "If you please, would you allow Mistress Summers to measure you? These gowns have to be made swiftly on such short notice."

Quickly taking another bite of her peach, Sansa put it away, cleaned her hands with a napkin and smiled at the seamstress who gave her an unsure smile back. "So what have you been doing to occupy your time Lady Sansa?" It was just a means of friendly conversation, but sometimes Sansa wanted to know if there was an ulterior motive behind Margaery's kindness. Honestly, why take pity on her? Why take her in? Why protect her?

"Reading my lady. Some on Targaryen history, but I have become interested in the myths and legends of old. If only I had more books at my disposal to read more about it." Margaery seemed to ponder for a bit before replying. "Perhaps I can speak to Grand Maester Pycelle. He may be able to lend you a few books for use at your pleasure." Sansa highly doubted he would, but thanked Lady Margaery anyway.

_There you shall be able to behold what the Gods have born._

"My lady," Sansa asked softly. Margaery turned to her and raised a brow. Sansa struggled to smile. "Have you ever been to Dorne?" Margaery shook her head and Sansa frowned. "But I know a lot about it. Why the question though? Is there something of significance there?

_Maybe _Sana thought. "I was thinking of Princess Myrcella being so far away from home. I am wondering what she would find favourable in Dorne," Sansa explained. Margaery thought for a bit. "Well it is hot like Kings Landing. One of the hottest places in Westoros. Very rocky with a lot of mountains."

Sansa licked her lips. "It doesn't snow there?" Margaery gave her a bewildered look. "In Dorne? Never. Water there is worth as much as gold." Sansa nodded, but was deeply troubled by this bit of information. She hadn't paid much attention to Septa Mordane when she spoke of the weathers in various places. Perhaps she should have, which begs the question…

What did Lyanna mean in her poem of finding a frosty path leading to gold in the Marches of Dorne? Frosty meant it was cold and that there was snow. Honestly what sort of metaphorical meaning could 'frosty' stand for in Lyanna's poetry? The words were only getting more complicated and harder to understand.

* * *

Aemon, alone in his chambers, stared at the woman standing in the corner. For a blind man, he knew that his look was full of pity, but he could see her. Not as others could see, but he could see her. When she was here, his vision came once again, but only to look upon her and her sorrows. Her white shift stained with blood, her blue eyes welling with all the guilt and sadness of what her own wanton folly had brought about, her skin pale from death, but still beautiful.

"The child has been conceived," he whispered to her. For why else was she here out of all the creatures he had summoned? The woman in question nodded even though he had not worded his statement as an enquiry. "Daenerys ?" The woman shook her head. Being one of the dead, she could only speak in riddles and only speak truth to the ones that were seers in their dreams.

"Then who?"

The woman touched her belly in a gesture of mourning for her child. "Only the Avatar can bear the Prince of Promise." Aemon went quiet. "There has been no Avatar for two thousand years and many think that such a person was a myth. Most history regarding them was believed to be stored in the North and destroyed. The Prince of Promise is rumoured to be in the royal Targaryen line."

The bleeding woman shook her head. "The line still lives. It still lives, but only though the firstborn daughter. If she dies then the magic protecting the wall will crumble, the Others will cross and so will their enigmatic leader who wishes to save the realm through death." Aemon's fist clenched and he rubbed the chaffed dry skin of his temples. This wasn't making any sense.

"If the line still lives why haven't there been any more Avatars?" The woman was silent and regarded him disdainfully. Perhaps it had something to do with him being a Targaryen, but he could understand her woes frankly enough. "They have been dormant and were awoken when the Dragons were born. The line lives with the firstborn daughter."

That was as much information as he was going to get out of her. She was just too repetitive. "If the Avatar power has awoken, that means the old magic once possessed by the Avatars to keep the kingdoms safe has been awoken again." The bleeding woman nodded, but said nothing else. Aemon became thoughtful and tapped his fingers on the table.

"Where can she be found? This firstborn daughter who carries the Prince of Promise?"

"You cannot find her. She will find you, if she lives." And with that said, the bleeding woman disappeared. Even though it was his own séance that had summoned her, the spirit itself had decided that this conversation was at an end. However, he understood the message clear. He would have to wait. How long that would be, he didn't know and that was only if she remained alive. Did they even have the time?

He supposed so. If she remained alive, the Wal'ls magic would hold. They only had to worry about Mance Rayder for now. At least his fellow Watchmen would, but Aemon knew the truth. Quickly clearing up the candles and powders and blood on the table that he had used to summon the bleeding woman, Aemon gathered his scrolls and headed to his inner chamber where the warmth of his bed awaited him. What would he dream tonight? Maybe the Gods would show him her face. This Avatar. The mother of the Prince who was Promised as she was the Protector of the Realm.

* * *

Sansa spent another week unnoticed by all save for Margaery, but even she was busy with the wedding preparations. Sansa grimaced and gently squeezed her breasts. She barely had any a few weeks ago, but they had swollen a little and they were very tender. Sometimes her nipples tingled. It was very annoying and she was so self-conscious about it, that she wore more padding under her gowns with higher collars to hide the cleavage she now had.

Shae swore that her breasts were growing because she was becoming a woman, something that Sansa was able to allow herself to smile to. She had come to like the idea of a flower blooming in darkness even though Lady Margaery had said otherwise, but she hadn't realised it would be this bothersome. The worst of it though was that now she was constantly sick. All morning and all night. All she could think about was being sick and all she could feel was sickness.

Milk and porridge had become too much for her to handle in the mornings or at any time. She could not even stand the smell of wine and instead drank mouthfuls of cold water in an effort to appease her queasiness. Pastries and meats she had no care for and could only stomach chicken and bread for her supper. Perhaps sometimes soup, but nothing more.

"I think perhaps we should call in a healer or one of the Maesters. You do not look well my lady," Shae remarked to her as she played with her food. Instead, Sansa bit right into a peach and looked at her absentmindedly. "I am just a little ill. I am sure it will go away." Shae 'hmphd' in response and scratched her thigh. "You're as pale as the snows of the north. I wouldn't be surprised if you start looking like a white walker soon."

Sansa managed a slight chuckle and stood up a little too fast. She felt dizzy and sick and hunched over to let it pass. Shae was at her side in an instant, but Sansa assured her that she was alright. With a grimace, Shae let her go and take a seat by the window. Sansa took up her sewing to pass the time. She was still making that rose and was determined to finish it.

"Have you noticed how drastically your sleeping patterns have changed?" Sansa refused to comment, but Shae pressed on. "There is something wrong with you." Sansa gave up. "I know. I am tried and I am sick. I am so worried about the situation. My brothers, my mother, my sister Arya, my future…" Her handmaiden pressed a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed it meaningfully. "You have to stop these dark thoughts from consuming your life. It is ruining your health and it may as well ruin your beauty."

Sansa spared her a wry smile and returned to her sewing. "I'll try." The sewing kept her occupied and Shae went about her daily chores within Sansa's room, but it wasn't long before Sansa began to feel fatigued. She was always so tired. So sleepy. There was a knock on the door and as Shae went to answer it, Sansa put her sewing to the side half expecting it to be one of Lady Margaery's servants. Instead she was more surprised to see Grand Maester Pycelle.

"My lady," he said quietly. He must have been using a lot of effort to keep any disdain he had for her out of his voice. "Grand Maester," Sansa said respectfully. Behind him two servant boys were holding old heavy leather bound books. "Lady Sansa, I heard that you had taken an interest in reading and Lady Margaery graciously asked if I could spare you some books." Stunned to say the least, Sansa gave the Great Maester a gracious nod and gestured for his servants to place the books on her desk. "Here are some histories of the Dorne, their mythology and their geography. The lady said you had some interest in Dorne and were thinking of Princess Myrcella."

She eyed him warily and nodded. "I was musing to Lady Margaery if the Princess Myrcella would find anything she liked in Dorne so that she wouldn't be so sad missing her home." The Grand Maester spared her a smile believing nothing. Sansa wondered what gave her away. Her eyes?

"Here are some histories and mythologies of the Targaryens, some folklore both common and uncommon and geographies of Westeros and the free cities." Sansa thanked him with a curtsey and then remembered something. "Grand Maester, I thank you for your books truly. But I was wondering if you also have something on very old mythology. About the things beyond the wall."

Pycelle gave her a hard look as if he wanted to understand something, but then grinned at her. "Thinking of taking the black Lady Stark?" Sansa gave him a hearty chuckle. "The men of the Nights Watch don't take women, but I am interested in their history and all the myths from the age of the heroes. My brother Jon Snow serves the Nights Watch." _And my father would have had he lived. _

Pycelle humoured her, but amiably promised to see what he could find for her. When they left her in silence, Sansa gave one look to Shae and then to the books mounted on her desk.

_Thank the Gods for Margaery. _

Getting into her seat, Sansa opened up the first book on the geography of Dorne. She could see a long pass leading to the sea of Dorne or at least what she thought was a pass. It would be perfect to sail from there to Tarth, but there were no bays in that pass. Whatever the case, it was interesting to say the least. Dornish history however, wasn't as interesting. She could not find anything referencing to something the Gods had built to behold or any sort of gold.

Sighing in exasperation, Sansa closed the book only to realize that Shae had politely left her be. Well, what did she expect? As if the handmaiden would want to help trudge through hordes of dull words and boring books. Sansa rubbed her temples and instead picked up the lore and legends upon the Wall. At least the Maester had left her something in regards to the myths of old. She had heard many of their fables from old Nan and the myths about the Others were similar here. They were nothing more than the walking dead, but where they sprung from, how they came to be and their purpose was still unknown. There were many theories of course, but no one knew for certain. Besides, they hadn't been sighted for thousands of years. More myth than ancient fact.

But what intrigued her more was the enigmatic being called the 'Prince of Promise.' A person who lived eight thousand years before Aegon's Landing and had fought against the Others and drove them off. Sansa had expected someone just and merciful, but the old Prince of Promise had sacrificed his own wife to make his sword. Dragon lore had prophesized that he would rise again and fight the Others. Many thought it was Prince Rhaeger, but he was long since dead.

As she flipped through the pages, Sansa came across something she had never heard before.

'_It was believed after the first Prince fought the Others, he made a magic barrier that barred all things unnatural from the North to pass into the South. Eventually the first men of the Night's Watch built a Wall amidst that very barrier. The Prince then founded a line with every first born child being called the Avatar who possessed his power to use the magic of old and protect the world from the magic of all things unnatural both north and south. Not much is known about them and hardly any evidence is found within their existence. Some say the last Avatar left his or her post and married within the Targaryen line." _

Sansa sat their perplexed. Painstakingly, she searched the book for anything else said on these Avatars, but there was nothing save for that paragraph. Dimly, she placed a bookmark on that page and closed it. She wondered who she could ask about it. Grand Maester Pycelle may fill her in, but she didn't trust him enough and he had only come here on Lady Margaery's bidding. She doubted anyone else knew of these legends so who could possibly help her?

It seemed she was just leading herself to a whole lot of dead ends and unanswered questions over a poem Lyanna Stark had written many years ago. How could she think it even meant anything? Perhaps it was nothing but her aunt's imaginative drizzle. Deciding to jump into her shift, Sansa unlaced herself for the night and for the first time in weeks she stood in front of the mirror and was very surprised by what she saw.

She was very pale as others had said, but she had clearly developed a woman's body now. Her hips had shaped a little, but it was her breasts she was amazed at (as sore as they were). Even though they were still small, they had become round and pronounced during the last two weeks. She hadn't expected it to happen so fast.

Grimacing, Sansa threw over her night shift and wrapped her robe around it. She supposed she would work on her sewing a little longer before heading to bed. Biting into a peach and watching the flames crackle, Sansa began to wonder about her brother Robb. How was he faring? Would he ever be able to rescue her? Would Joffery give her up for his uncle? She wanted to believe it to be so, but she doubted it would happen. The Gods seldom answered her prayers and the only mercy they had given her was sparing her being Joffery's queen.

Suddenly not in the mood to sew, Sansa hauled her body to her bed and hid under the covers. Perhaps it would be best if she occupied her time trying to understand Lyanna's poem. She would continue reading up upon the histories and mythologies if only to keep her mind off the more depressing issues and the problems at hand. It seemed like a wonderful idea indeed.

* * *

It was barely dawn when Sansa woke up. Hardly any light was in the sky so the room was still very dark. It wasn't good for Sansa. Her stomach was churning and any moment now, she was going to…

She hunched over on her knees so that the upper half of her body was leaning over the bed. She gagged and clutched the sheets and soon enough vomited all over the floor. She spluttered and coughed for a few moments afterwards before she composed herself. Her stomach was churning and she still felt unbearably queasy. Perhaps she had eaten something spoiled. She lay back down on the pillows feeling a little dizzy and rested there for several minutes. When the nausea began to subside a little, Sansa gathered herself together and pulled herself out of bed.

She stumbled across the room for some spare linen and went to the floor to wipe up the vomit. She felt acutely embarrassed about it, but since it was the early morning, she didn't want to call upon her handmaidens and have them make a fuss over her. Instead she bundled up the sheet and placed it on the desk. Shae would have it washed in the morning.

Breathlessly, Sansa wondered back over to the bed and sat quietly. She waited for the full rays of dawn.

Shae was the first one that came as was expected and Sansa ordered her to draw a bath and have the spare linen cleaned and have a scullery maid scrub the floor. "Are you alright my lady?" Shae whispered in her thick accent. Sansa gave her a quick nod. "Must have eaten something spoiled."

With help, Shae went about filling up her tub with water and Sansa dismissed her for an hour so that she could soak in peace. She slipped her body into the hot water and began to feel a little cleaner, but the nausea was still there. She gently rubbed her stomach and relaxed her head back. The sickness had been plaguing her for a few weeks now, but it seemed as if it had finally decided to purge itself out.

As she began to scrub herself, Sansa was overcome with an odd feeling. A twinge of fear mixed with a sense of foreboding and suspicion. It was whispering in the back of her mind and it was a thought she definitely did not want to entertain. A thought giving a plausible explanation for her moon's blood being so late and her current maladies. Sansa brushed it off and continued scrubbing, but the thought would not go away.

It would _not go away. _

* * *

_**Please Review**  
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	4. Chapter 4

**The Hard Truth**

* * *

Sansa was as pale as a ghost when she made her way to Margaery's chambers in a cream and pink gown. Another week had passed since that annoying thought had pressed itself against the barrier in her mind and now it was becoming more and more evident each day her moon's blood failed to flow from her loins. The sickness hadn't gone away like she had hoped, but instead had hit her hard tenfold with each passing day. Now she was constantly nauseated and the slightest smells of foods had her gagging and running off somewhere to let it out.

"The plan is still in infancy," she heard someone say and that made her stomach feel like a bottomless pit. Keeping her head low, she kept walking. _Infancy…_

"Quickly girl, we cannot keep your father waiting. It is not good to be late," she heard a noble woman say to her daughter. Sansa almost shuddered. Her courses were late. Very late.

"This is me new babe," she saw a serving man showing what appeared to be a newborn infant to one of his friends. Sansa's stomach was doing flip flops. Bile threatened to bubble at the back of her throat, but she removed her thoughts away from it and entered Lady Margaery's chambers. "Lady Sansa!" She exclaimed. Her grandmother Lady Olenna Redwyne was eyeing her with mild interest. Sansa felt vaguely uncomfortable being under her scrutinies. It was if she would strip her naked and learn what secrets she was hiding. Her old eyes glazed with knowledge and wisdom and Sansa could see that this was a shrewd woman indeed.

"I am glad you could make it! Come!" Margaery led her over to a tables adorned with all manners of roasts, baked vegetables, steaming soups, sugary deserts, fruits and drink. Sansa almost gagged and focused on her breathing instead. "Are you alright Lady Sansa?" Margaery asked in concern. Taking a moment to collect herself, Sansa nodded.

"Yes my lady, forgive me. I have not been sleeping well." Lady Olenna narrowed her eyes at her and said nothing. She merely took a seat and Sansa sat opposite of her. "Play us some music," Lady Olenna called to a few singers and lute players in the corner. Immediately they struck up a happy tune. Sansa helped herself to some fruit first, but even that was hard enough to get down. How was she doing to eat anything else?

Margaery struck up a conversation with her grandmother, but Sansa sat in her chair quite deflated. Surely she had caught some sort of illness? Or perhaps she was being slowly poisoned? Because it couldn't possibly be…

"Lady Sansa, is it true all the Stark children had dire wolves as pets?" Margaery asked her cheerfully as she sipped some hot pumpkin soup. Attention suddenly coming back to reality, Sansa nodded. "Yes my lady. My father and brothers found a dead mother dire wolf in our forests. The pups were alive and there was enough for each of the Stark children." Margaery smiled and asked her how big they grew.

"Quite big," Sansa replied respectfully. "But I am not sure how big. I wasn't there when my brothers and father found the dire wolf. I imagine it was quite large though." Margaery nodded and resumed eating. Sansa ate slowly, but it was more like nibbling on bits of food. She felt so sick.

Lady Olenna leant over the table and gave Sansa a serious look. "Tell me girl, before the king set you aside for my granddaughter, how did he treat you?" Sansa's heart began to hammer in her chest. What was she to say to that? Was it a trick? Surely bouts of his behaviour to her were rumoured throughout the lands. On several occasions he had wanted to send her brother Robb a 'loud' message. But if she spoke against him then perhaps this old woman might tell him and Sansa didn't even want to contemplate what sort of punishment he had in store for her then.

She was speechless, but Olenna wasted no time assuring her. "I had the musicians sing so that no one would hear our conversation. Tell me girl, how did he treat you?" Sansa stirred her soup a little. She had to choose her next words quite carefully. "He was kind to me when he was happy, but when he was unhappy…I mean he…sometimes I would say the wrong thing and he would order the members of his kings guard to beat me," she finished.

Olenna's mouth was set in a thin line. "I don't think it is just because of things you said dear. I am sure you have heard of what he did to those whores after his name day." Sansa shifted uncomfortably and found that Margaery was giving her a pitying look. "If you say so my lady," Sansa grumbled out. Lady Olenna raised a dubious brow.

"Oh, I know so." Sansa dared to look up at the old woman now and found that her gaze was sympathetic. "We women are always the ones to suffer in the world. In marriage, in political schemes and for the crimes of our men. We suffer in more ways than one from the lusts of men and our bodies form into proof of it while men run off scot free. Free from scorn and humiliation." Sansa stilled at the last few sentences. The old woman eyed her as she drank mouthfuls of wine, but Sansa couldn't help, but feel that there were double meanings in her words. _Our bodies form into proof of men's transgressions against us _she thought with a grimace. But the Hound had committed no transgression. And besides she couldn't possibly be…

Still, what did Lady Olenna mean? She understood its meaning perfectly as ambiguous as it was, but did not understand why the comment was directed at her. "Do you think Margaery will be safe?" Olenna asked her. Sansa gave one look at Lady Margaery who was understanding in all aspects and then back to the old woman.

"I cannot say. He seems to be acting kind enough and has not laid a hand on Lady Margaery, but only time will tell. He always needs to hurt something to quell his desires." It was enough and the old woman nodded. However both her and Margaery spared a strange look to each other and resumed eating. Sansa had never felt more uncomfortable or sick in her entire life.

"I intend to make you my maid of honour at my wedding. There is no reason that you should be shut away and forgotten by all," Margaery declared. Sansa did not like that idea at all, but smiled weakly nonetheless. Lady Olenna continued to eye her suspiciously, but in the end her gaze softened. It almost looked commiserative. Sansa wondered if it was because of the way she had been treated, but whatever the case, Olenna was a big mystery to her.

Margaery kept imploring her to eat more, but Sansa refused saying she was feeling unwell although gladly thanked them for their hospitality. When it came time to leave, Lady Olenna oddly declared that she would escort her back to her rooms. Bewildered by the suggestion, she humbly thanked the woman no less, being well aware of her lessons as a lady.

When they were well out of sight from Margaery, Lady Olenna cleared her throat. "Careful my child. Wolves can only survive in pacts. A lone wolf can be torn apart especially when it is on its own. Even worse when it is with pup." Sansa stopped in her walk and stared at Olenna suspiciously. Just what did she mean? As if anticipating her question, Olenna answered. "You're eyes give you away. Your skin too. It would be best that the lone wolf finds somewhere to hide in the forests than be out in the open." With that said, the old woman left her to stand there utterly speechless. But Sansa was no fool. It didn't take her long to digest the meaning behind those words and feeling her food coming up; Sansa hastily jogged to her room and barred the door shut.

She grabbed a bowl used for pouring water into her tub and spewed straight into it. When she was sure there was nothing left for her to up-chug, Sansa stumbled backwards against the wall and unconsciously placed her hand against her stomach. Olenna's words echoed in her mind.

_A lone wolf can be torn apart especially when it is on its own. Even worse when it is with pup. _

It couldn't be! Could it?

* * *

Varys could not be called an honourable man, despite all that he worked for as far as his goals were concerned. He was neither righteous nor honest to say the least, but he did have morals. Morals in his terms. He was a man that worked for peace and one day hoped to see the sufferings of all those lesser born put to an end. All that had slightly diminished when Joffery became king. Not that the boy really thwarted his plans. He could easily be removed since he was no warrior as kings were nor was he brave. He was a ruthless coward and a whining little boy. Nothing more, nothing less.

Varys didn't know if he would be alive to see if the cause was fulfilled, but still he was hopeful. However, at this moment, such premonitions mattered little. Sansa Stark was unwell as reported by his spies, but what was worrisome was that she was getting worse. Pelvic cramps and vomiting. It might have had something to do with her moon's blood except that she hadn't bled again yet. This was cause for worry, but not uncommon since she had only flowered barely two moons ago.

He knew the reports were not false though. She had become quite gaunt and pale even though his spies told him she was still growing into a woman. He believed it. Her breasts had swelled, but he doubted womanly issues resulted in the maladies Lady Sansa was suffering from. Why hadn't she called upon Maester Pycelle or any other healer within the vicinity? That was what worried him and it was odd. If she was fearful from healers than she had good reason to hide her sickness. Perplexing now.

"Shelley, if you can convince Lady Sansa Stark to see a healer please do so. But I want you to do something else. Protect her. Cover for her and cover her illness until it subsists. If it worsens, I'll visit her myself and see what the problem is, but it wouldn't bode well for the court to know that she is unwell. Everyone will smell a plot or a conspiracy to murder Lady Stark and that is the last thing we need. Is that understood my dear?"

Shelley nodded. She was one of Sansa's handmaidens employed by him and one of the only ones that stayed. Cersei was adamant about continuously changing handmaidens for fear Sansa might grow too close to them. Why the queen wanted to deny the Stark girl even a few basic friends was beyond him. Even so, Margaery Tyrell had taken it upon herself to be kind to the girl and since Cersei had no use for her other than to be kept in line, her situation seemed to be a little more pleasant. Save for her sickness of course.

He would have to have one of his spies monitor the chef who prepared all of her meals and the person who served them to her besides Shae. "You are dismissed." Shelley left him alone in his private quarters and Varys leaned back against his chair. It was a shame for the Stark girl to lose her father like that. A gigantic war had started all over Westeros because one little prick of a boy had wanted a few moments of glory to test his power. Oh and he had found his power had no bounds by executing Eddard Stark.

_The fool._

Only time would tell whether all that he worked for would ever bring proper peace to the realm.

* * *

Sansa had been sitting by her window for a few hours now. Only a candle in a dark iron lamp provided the only light source in the room. Wrapped in a blanket with her legs spread out against the ledge, Sansa let her hand rest upon her stomach. For the last few hours she had been going through all sorts of denials about why she was so unwell, but most of the time none of them seemed plausible.

Her free hand clenched into a fist and it took a lot of self-will not to start crying. The possibility of it was too much to bear, but she couldn't very well ignore it. By then it would be too late. Perhaps she would have to accept the inevitable.

It explained it all. The sickness, the tiredness, her swollen and changing breasts, her lack of blood. Sansa counted the time on her fingers. It had been close to seven weeks since she had lain with Sandor. Nearly two moons and she had missed her course. Her mother and her Septa had taught her about womanly issues such as moon bleeding and childbirth. All the signs and unwanted difficulties that came with it. Sansa was not stupid. The change in her body was apparent and she could think of no other explanation.

But to the Gods above, she had only lain with Sandor once! Whores could lay with men countless times and not conceive. Sansa cursed her stupidity. Whores were smart. Whores knew tricks. Whores knew how to stop themselves quickening with child. Sansa felt dumber than a whore.

There was every possibility that what she feared was just paranoia and that there was a perfectly logical explanation for this, but the more Sansa told herself that, the less possible it seemed.

Was there a way for her to be sure now? Or would she have to wait for her body to take form? Sansa choked back an anxious cry of fear. Oh Gods…if she was pregnant than that would mean…

Dear Gods, what would Joffery do to her? What would the queen? What would the people say? That the beautiful noble lady of Winterfell had gotten herself pregnant with a bastard in her belly? What would her brothers and her mother think? The feeling of dread was overwhelming. She was fourteen, unmarried and possibly pregnant with Sandor Clegane's child.

And it was now that she very much regretted her decision to allow him to take her to bed. _He should have known better _she thought traitorously and wept.

Shae found her in the morning sleeping at the window. "My lady?" Sansa turned her weary eyes over to Shae. Her stomach actually rumbled for breakfast instead of being detested by it. She craved peaches. "I'll wear a dark gown today," she declared. A dark gown to fit her dark mood. Shae nodded and rummaged through her folded gowns in her oak chests to find a few dark gowns for her to choose from. Sansa chose a grey one. It reminded her of Winterfell. As Shae laced her up, Sansa cleared her throat and mustered up the courage to ask her a question. "Shae," she whispered and licked her lips. "Yes my lady," her handmaiden said nonchalantly. Sansa swallowed hard. "What sort of signs can confirm that a woman is pregnant?"

The lacing stopped abruptly and Sansa immediately went for a rescue. "Just curiosity. I am thinking about my future and the queen was the one that had to give me the details about my flowering. My mother and septa didn't tell me much else," she lied. Her handmaiden considered the question before resuming her lacing.

"Well usually a woman's bleeding stops and most women wait two moons or three to confirm it. The early months are usually accompanied by vomiting, backaches and headaches. The backaches get worse as the pregnancy progresses or so I am told. The stomach swells obviously and soon a woman can feel the baby move inside her. The breasts fill up with milk." Sansa remained silent and took a seat in front of her dresser mirror to allow Shae to comb and style her hair.

"Sounds bothersome," Sansa said quietly. "It does my lady," Shae replied, but Sansa didn't miss the look her handmaiden gave her. It was suspicious. Sansa didn't think it was wise to press on, but she had no choice. Shae was the only person she could trust. "Are there ways to get rid of a child?"

Shae stopped brushing her hair and stared at her though the mirror. It only took a heartbeat for Sansa to see Shae's face contort to realization. "My lady," Shae began and then immediately ran to the door and shut and bolted it. Before Sansa could say anything, Shae came back, gripped her by the arm and yanked her from her seat. "The vomiting, your swelling breasts…you haven't bled have you?"

A chill ran up Sansa's spine. Why couldn't she lie properly? She looked down in shame. "No. It has almost been two months now and I have not bled." Shae hissed and squeezed her arm. "How could you have been so foolish? How could you let this happen?"

"Me? I mean… I only did it once! I didn't think…"

"Of course you didn't think! It only needs to be done once."

Sansa went eerily quiet. Her throat began to ache and it took a lot of her self- preservation not to burst out in tears. "I don't know for sure. I am hoping I am not, but all the signs. All the signs are too much to ignore," she groaned and sat back down on the chair. Shae stared at her dumbfounded and looked to the door again ever so self-conscious.

"Does anyone know?" Sansa looked up at her. Olenna's warning replayed itself in her mind, but if the woman only warned her from her suspicions than she doubted she would tell anyone. Why try to give her advice then? "No," Sansa said confidently and touched her stomach. She noticed that Shae's hands clenched and unclenched. In anger or fear, she didn't know.

"You have to get rid of it," she whispered to her. Sansa looked up at her wide eyed. Shae hissed again. "Don't look at me like that. You have to be rid of it or it will be the end of you. You'll be ruined. You have to do it quickly. Any maester, healer or whore knows how to brew the drinks made for getting rid of unwanted babes. If it is done quickly, it will be nothing more than a painful moon's bleeding. No one would have reason to suspect a miscarriage."

Sansa stared at her in disbelief and then wondered what to do. She understood the necessity of this. The shame and dishonour this would bring and it was simply punishment for her own folly. She shouldn't have let him take her to bed. Now the Gods were punishing her for forgetting her virtue. For once she understood Olenna's words. It was always the women who bore the blame.

"But how?" She whispered uncertainly and touched her stomach. She wasn't entirely sure about this, but what other path could she possibly take? _Sandor…_

"I'll get it for you. You can take it tomorrow evening before you sleep and the business will be done within a day. A concoct of herbs will flush the child out of your womb and nobody need ever know." Sansa listened to her intently, but at the same time, her mind was elsewhere. This was Sandor's child. If he had stayed, what would he have done if she told him she was pregnant? Whisked her away? Took her somewhere safe? Would he have cared? He cared enough to offer to take her away from here so surely…

"Okay, but be careful Shae. Don't get caught," she said quietly to her. Shae nodded and after a slight hesitation reached out and touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry this happened to you my lady." Sansa gave her a weak smile and told her to finish styling her hair.

_I'm sorry too_

Although whether she meant it for the child, for Sandor or herself, she didn't know. Having nothing better to do, Sansa decided that she would take a quiet stroll in the gardens with Shae soundlessly travelling behind her. In an effort to keep her mind off the growing problem inside her, Sansa began to think about Lyanna's poetry. Her mind swirled through the sentences as she tried to take apart their meaning.

A thornless rose. How could a thornless rose make one fit to sit upon the Iron throne? And what was that about purifying the bloodline? Sansa could not even guess. It wasn't like her bloodline was tainted anyway. That was more Lannister. "My lady, don't touch your stomach," Shae whispered to her fearfully. Aware of what she was doing Sansa quickly intertwined her fingers and continued walking. She must have looked like an idiot touching her stomach like that. How could she?

"Sansa!" A cold, mocking and all too familiar voice said to her from behind. Sansa froze, but knew she had to turn around. Slowly she did and sank into a low curtsey. "My king." Joffery stopped in front of her, one hand on his hip in all his arrogant spineless glory. "Fancy seeing you out here," he said sardonically and sneered at her. Sansa used all her composure to keep a straight face. Seven hells, she didn't even want to think about what he would do to her if he found out she was pregnant.

"Haven't caught much sight of you in court. Where have you been?" Sansa was careful not to hesitate. "Waiting on your betrothed Your Grace, the Lady Margaery and in my pass time, sewing and reading a little history." She heard him scoff at her, but she herself gave no reaction. His eyes narrowed at her lack of response.

"Foolish things apart from serving my betrothed of course. Tell me Sansa, how does it feel knowing I have given my heart to another and have set you aside?"

_Positively wonderful._

"I am saddened Your Grace, but I have found that Lady Margaery would be a better credit to you than I could ever be." Music to his ears and he laughed at her. "Shame my dog isn't around here anymore. He would have been good for scaring you." And with that said he walked off. Sansa clenched the skirts of her dress. It would have made her happy if the Hound was still here.

"At least he didn't beat you this time," Shae muttered to her conversationally.

"Yes," was all she could muster up. A beating was another way to cause a miscarriage and Sansa wasn't so sure she could stomach the thought right now. She continued walking in silence until she came to the bridge. There was much greenery around it, except some of the tree leaves had wilted into yellow and brown and they adorned the path. Winter was truly coming.

And before Winter would come, a storm would come with before it, swallowing her and her child if she did not tread carefully. Tonight would halt the oncoming storm when she drank the moon tea, but Sansa had another tingling feeling inside her. She wanted to take her chances riding out the storm even if the odds were against her.

* * *

Sandor drowned a mug of ale as the whore's movements around his cock became faster. Maidenpool whores were easy to come by, but along his journey he had slept with only few of them. However, no matter how many he fucked, it was incredibly hard for him to stay aroused when he had them lift their skirts so that he could shove his prick inside them. He'd always try to picture Sansa or rather; her visage and soft maiden body would come to him.

When it was too much for him to bear, he demanded redheads and had finally found one. She looked nothing like Sansa save for her auburn hair and blue eyes. She was pretty enough. Some tavern wench in her late twenties, though with big tits and meaty thighs. Nothing like Sansa's thin frame with her little breasts and comely bottom.

He gripped the woman's hair tighter as he felt his own release coming and soon enough it did. He threw her a few brown coppers, placed his cock back in his breeches and told her to get out of his sight. When she was gone, Sandor felt angry enough to punch the wall. He was now a vagabond with no purpose and had no idea where to go. True to his word, he had headed north and the Wall seemed like the only option to him, but going celibate was not his idea of living out the rest of his days. Needless to say, he doubted whether all those _brothers _in the North even held that oath. He'd stake his life on them going to the nearest little village or town to have a good romp.

Pouring himself some more ale, Sandor went over to his bed and sat down on it quietly. As usual, his thoughts wandered over to Sansa and how she was faring. No doubt that little shit of a king was still beating her. He wanted to cut Stannis's throat for having the audacity to lose and leave the Little Bird to her grisly fate. For what must have been the thousandth time, he wondered why he hadn't just stolen away with her like a thief in the night. She would have been good company and she'd be safe back home in Winterfell by now, but she had insisted on staying.

_Why? _

He wondered.

What the hell was left for her in King's Landing? If she had been bold enough to beg him to take her maidenhead, why wasn't she brave enough to travel with him? Why didn't she want to? That was what he hated about her the most now. The fact that she had turned into a complete enigma to him.

Because why would she let him take her? Even when he was drunk he had managed to refuse her right up until she pressed her sweet cherry lips against his own. His mind was entertaining the possibility that she may have even _cared for him. _

_What a stupid thought _he admonished himself. How could she? He was hideous, cruel and all things ugly in looks, name and nature while she was everything that was sweet, innocent and beautiful. He had no business contemplating such things because it just wasn't possible.

_Then why did she beg me to fuck her? _

Not wanting to be Joffery's first did not seem like a suitable reason and the way she had touched him, kissed him and told him that she would miss him only made him more confused. It had made sense when he was drunk of course, but as he sped away from King's Landing on his horse and his foggy mind began to clear, he became more and more confused.

What did it matter anyway? He was never going to see her again as much as he wanted to. Joffery would marry her and give her a life of misery and pain. He supposed time would make him forget about her, but right now all he could think about was Sansa Stark.

Her soft body smelling of roses and jasmine. How pale she was. Those blue Tully eyes and that lovely auburn hair. Her pink nipples and the way her most secrets parts tasted. How her womanly flesh yielded to him and tightened around his cock. If the Gods made him forget about her every time he fucked a whore, he'd probably start believing in them.

_Sansa _he thought miserably.

* * *

While the south was still a hot place to be, Sansa was aware of the drop in temperature. She wondered how cold it would be in Winterfell by now. Was the grass still green?

It wasn't long before Shae came in with a tray of food for her dinner. Margaery had asked her to dine together again, but Sansa gave it out that she was ill. When she saw her dinner was roasted meat and vegetables, Sansa wrinkled her nose. She felt sick already.

Shae gave her a weak smile and bolted her door. She then went about pouring her tea and pulled from her pockets a little vial. "It is a mixture of angelica and pennyroyal. Just mix it in your tea and it will induce a miscarriage. Make sure you are wearing thick under garments. It will be a heavy bleeding, but since it is so early anyone would assume it is your moon's blood," Shae whispered to her and uncorked the vial. Sansa stared at it like it was a deadly poison, but made no protest as Shae poured it into her tea.

Sansa felt her mouth go dry as Shae handed it to her. "Leave me. I'll call on you if I need you." Shae stared at her peculiarly, but nodded and curtseyed. "Shae…" Sansa trailed off. The handmaiden turned back to look at her. "Thank you." Shae nodded and left her be.

When Shae left, Sansa sat there for several minutes staring at the moon's tea. Once she drank it, there was no going back. As she was about to sip the tea, her door opened and Sansa found herself peering into the eyes of Cersei Lannister.

"Little dove," she said casually. Sansa immediately stood up. "My queen," she replied hoping the trepidation was far from her voice. Cersei spent a few moments scrutinizing her before shutting the door and walking with her shawl wrapped around her within her room. A little pace it seemed like. "It seems you have all, but disappeared from court. You enjoy being shut up in your room all day?" The tone was rude, but Sansa knew better than to speak back.

"I read Your Grace or wait on Lady Margaery or visit the gardens," Sansa explained doubting very much that Cersei even cared. Why was she here anyway? Cersei scoffed and took a seat on her wooden chest. "It is time to discuss what is to be done with you. You are now my ward, but it is not fitting that you slouch about here day and night. My father, the Hand of the king, has decided that you should be married."

Sansa went still and a chill ran up her spine. Married? Married to whom? She had just been set aside by the king. "We thought it befitting that you should marry that wretch I have for a bro…what is that?" Her voice was sharp and when Sansa turned around to see what Cersei was staring at, her heart skipped a beat. _The vial. _

She had to think of an excuse and quickly. "Medicine Your Grace. I have not been feeling very well lately." She thought Cersei would let the issue drop, but instead she stood up and grabbed the vial off the table and smelt it. Sansa's heart was beating a mile per minute.

"This is angelica and pennyroyal mixed with an assortment of herbs. This is only used for…" she trailed off and then stared at Sansa wide eyed.

It was then that Sansa realized that Cersei knew.

She knew.

* * *

**A/N: I wrote the last scene of Cersei and Sansa while listening to Season 2 the 'Iron Price' theme. LOl I could totally picture that theme playing as Cersei sniffed the vile and looks at Sansa. Hope you guys like it, please review and let me know your thoughts.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n: Sorry for the long wait. Back at College and working so don't have much time to write. I am also skimming through the books to get a better idea of the characters and what is going on. This chapter is a little shorter than usual. But thank you all for the reviews. it helps me write :). Please review some more :D**

* * *

****Sana's Choice

A resounding slap permeated throughout the room. Sansa didn't even bother to reach up and touch her cheek even though it burned and throbbed. "You little whore," Cersei spat as she clutched the vial. For all the sharpness Cersei placed into her tone, Sansa could sense triumph in every tenor of her voice. She was a ruined woman after all.

"Have you swallowed any yet?" Sansa sniffed, but refused to show her fear. "No." Cersei's eyes glanced over to the cup and then back at her. She reached for the cup and held it out for her. "Drink it. They'll kill Jaime if they find out you are pregnant. They'll assume we had you raped," she hissed. Sansa replied back with the perfect counter.

"I was raped," she lied. "During the riot." Cersei froze and considered for a moment. An odd look of pity briefly glazed over her Lannister features, but it was gone just as fast. "Again, Jaime will be killed for it. Drink." Sansa looked at the cup and then back at Cersei. "But…you said I was to marry…"

The queen laughed at her and shook her head. "Sansa, Sansa, Sansa. You truly are learning. If it had been any other man I wouldn't care if you foisted a bastard upon him, but this is my brother. As wretched as he is, he is still a Lannister and we will not have any low born bastard seeding from your loins to take our family name. You will drink and tomorrow I will send word that you are gravely ill. Grand Maester Pycelle and I will be here to nurse you in your chambers until the miscarriage is done. Is that understood? After that there will be no more word of it."

At least she was trying to help her, but Sansa knew this was also the perfect cannon fodder that could be used to shame her. "What are you waiting for? Drink it!" She snapped and thrust it into her hands. Sansa hesitated. She couldn't be a mother now of all times. Giving birth to a bastard would have too many ramifications over her and her family name. And it seemed the queen wasn't giving her the option to choose differently. But still…

This was Sandor's baby. "Would you like me to have one of my guards beat it out of you? I do not favour what Joffery does, but I will not allow you to put my brother in jeopardy." _Then let me marry that Imp. _Sansa held the cup to her lips. She poised herself to swallow, but she kept thinking of Sandor and what other possibilities could have been.

_I can't do this. _Sansa lowered the cup. Cersei glowered at her. "Have it your way Sansa," she barked and went to the door. "No," Sansa screamed as she sprang to the table, grabbed the knife and just as Cersei turned around, slammed it into her chest.

That sudden rush of adrenaline that Sansa had felt diminished in a second as she stared wide eyed at what she had done. Cersei's gaze was just as surprised and Sansa backed away. The knife was still lodged in Cersei's chest and blood erupted from her mouth. She appeared to be trying to say something, but Sansa was too shaken up to heed anything. Cersei fell to the ground and convulsed and spat out blood and then she moved no more. Her eyes were open and lifeless. Her body motionless.

Sansa looked at her bloodied hands in disbelief and then back at the queen.

_What have I done? _

The sense of paralysing shock lasted only moments and when that was gone, Sansa began to panic. She had killed the queen! She didn't know what had possessed her to do such a thing and she had no idea what came over her. All she knew was that she had to protect herself and now look what it costed her. She would suffer horribly for this. The thought alone was enough to make her shiver.

_I have to get out. I have to leave. _

But where would she go? She paced around the room like a mad woman and her fingers would twitch in spasms as she tried to think of what to do and how to get out. Her eyes kept moving to Cersei's corpse sprawled out on the ground with a dinner knife in her chest. The longer she stayed, the slimmer her chances were of survival. She wasted no more time.

She grabbed her riding boots and slipped them on, grabbed her warmest winter cloak and stuffed a few priceless jewels she had gotten from Joffery in a carefully spun linen rucksack with a flowery emblem on it. She was about to leave the room when she looked back over to the bed and bit her bottom lip. If she was going to run, she was going to run with a purpose.

Scrambling to her bed and lifting the mattress, she grabbed her book on Targaryen royal history with Lyanna's poem safely tucked inside. She was not going to leave without it, but now where would she go? Getting out of the castle would be hard enough and if she managed to pull that off, where would she head from there? Winterfell? Riverrun? Her eyes went over to the book on Dornish geography.

No one would ever expect her to go there. Hesitantly, she flipped open the book and ripped out the map for the Dornish Marches and folded it in her pocket. Now it was time to leave. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to her room, slipped out and shut it. If anyone came looking for the queen they would assume she would still be in a private audience with her. Licking her dry lips and swallowing hard, Sansa paced herself.

The safest place to go would be through the gardens, but how was she to survive on her own? How did her sister escape in the first place?

_Gods I have just killed the queen and I have a bastard in my belly. How can I be so calm? _Clenching and unclenching her fist, Sana went on her way hoping with all her might that no one would stop and question her.

However as she approached the hall that lead to the gardens, she saw several knights standing on guard. There was no way she could slip past them without them giving her questioning looks especially in her state of attire. What was she to do now? She quickly turned another corner into the darkness and leaned against a stone pillar. She closed her eyes and breathed hard, rubbing her temples as she felt an impending headache and of course nausea rising in her throat.

_Where can I go for help? _

Who could truly help her out of this predicament? Who in the very least could give her a safe passing out of the castle? Sansa touched her stomach and did her best to refrain from crying. Who?

And then it hit her. The one person who had tried to give her ample warning for her condition. For her very situation in King's Landing.

Olenna Redwyne.

She had to find her. Gathering her wits together, Sana took a deep breath and quietly made her way to Margaery's bedchamber. Olenna was lodged in there. She was feeling a little more confident realizing that the castle was not in an uproar yet. Perhaps the servants assumed that Cersei was still in a private audience with her.

Sansa quietly turned into a hall and looked out for more guards, but before she could take another step, a hand clamped down on her mouth and another around her waist. She was pulled into the darkness.

* * *

Benjen Stark shivered as he wrapped his heavy fur coat around his body. How many months had he been here, trapped within an ancient building within an icy glacier? He did not know, but there was plenty to survive on. Within the glacier there were hot springs that brought warmth to the place although he wasn't sure how deep they ran. Surrounding the outskirts were some streams with an abundance of fish, which supplied him with a nice livelihood of meat to survive on.

It had gotten better when he had explored the ancient monument within. It was truly a remarkable place with varying degrees of temperatures. On his explorations he had come across an overgrown garden which was in an abundance of fruits and vegetables. It was all too good to be true, but it made him ponder what this all was.

He was certainly positive that this was a building from the time of the First men, but what he discovered about its purpose was something else entirely. Although the inscriptions were all in the old tongue, as he had ventured further than he dared one day, he had found himself in awe of what appeared to be a great library. It was full of books, scrolls, trinkets, weapons and maps. The languages these were written in he was certain were of the old tongue and the weapons were made of dragon's glass and platinum along with various other mystical properties.

It was a wondrous place to be and he would have left if he knew where he was, but he dared not risk it. At least not yet, but he knew fully well that he could not stay here forever no matter how enchanting this place was. No doubt if he made it back to the Wall, the Night's Watch would probably take an interest in excavating this place and making a base here. How hot springs and an abundance of life could survive here in the cavity of this glacier was beyond him.

Just what was this place and what purpose did it serve? He would have to find out. However the more pressing concern was how he got here in the first place. Wrapping his cloak around him, he shuddered at the thought. Those things…

The Others…

Were they the ones that had brought him here when he had passed out or was something more sinister at stake?

* * *

Tywin Lannister was more pale and gaunt looking than usual as Tyrion noted. Although he doubted very much that it was due to the loss of his daughter. Rather it was the fear. What was going on? Which Lannister would be next? He was, after all, considering this to be a second attempt on his life via his daughter. "Well?" He snapped to the council.

Petyr Baelish cleared his throat. "There is no sign of a forced entry. Ideally the room seems to be in pristine condition apart from the fact that the Queen was murdered. What eludes me is how whoever did it managed to get in and out without being detected and take Lady Sansa too." Everyone was in agreement with that. It had been suggested that perhaps Sansa had done it, but no one believed for a second that milk faced little doll was capable of murder. She was nothing like Queen Cersei and was thought too stupid to execute an escape plan. Still though, the girl had vanished without a trace. If only they knew….

"Her handmaiden Shae confirmed some jewels of hers are missing," Varys added in. Some members of the council began to shift uncomfortably. But no one had anything else to add to the matter. "I want to get to the bottom of this," Tywin Lannister said sharply, glaring at the rest of the council. "Do you think it's possible that it was a northern spy? Someone loyal to the traitor Rob Stark?"

"It is a possibility," Maester Pycelle agreed, but refrained from further comment. The situation eluded him as it did everyone else, but Tyrion couldn't understand why they were so shocked and surprised by it all. The queen was one of the most hated women in the seven kingdoms. There were plenty that wished her harm.

"That is not good enough," Lord Tywin snapped. "I want you to get to the bottom this. Find out who killed my daughter. Torture Sansa's and Cersei's servants if you have to, but get to the bottom of it and find the Stark girl!"

When the meeting adjourned, Tywin had asked Tyrion to stay. He did so without complaint and contemplated what sort of look his father had on his face and what he was thinking as he stared out the window. "My son is a prisoner, my daughter the queen is dead, my grandson Joffery is out of control and all I have is you." He spat that last part out with a bit of distaste and turned to Tyrion.

_I have never seen him so sad. So lost. _But besides the thought, Tyrion did not feel much pity for him. His father had refused to give him Casterly Rock and had thus far proved to Tyrion that despite their odds, he still felt no regard for him. Well, two could play at that game. "The Gods work in mysterious ways," Tyrion bit out in a hidden mocking tone. Lord Tywin sat down in his chair and rubbed his temples.

"I was going to marry you to Sansa as you know, but that won't happen until we find her." Tyrion made no comment on Tywin's lack of adding 'if.' "I sometimes wonder what I did to be rendered this so late in my life. An Imp as the last of my children standing strong."

"Given up hope of Jaime already?"

Lord Tywin gave him a slight sneer and poured himself some mulled wine. "You're my son. I acknowledged that when you returned from Lady Catelyn's hold. I acknowledged that to you, but I never forget the fact that you are responsible for Joanna's death," he said quietly. Tyrion went still and narrowed his eyes.

It was this. It was always _this. _The only person who had never used it against him was Jaime. "Well if you have nothing more to say, I will leave you to brood _father, _but I do have a request." Lord Tywin scarcely looked up and for a second Tyrion wondered if his perception had been wrong. Maybe he really was mourning for Cersei.

"I need to send some messages to the Iron Banks. The crown is heavily in debt as you know and they are growing quite irritating with their requests for payment. You are planning to send Lord Baelish to the Vale so I may as well head in the direction of Braavos and sort something out."

Tywin looked at him as if he had just spoken gibberish. "Braavos? You want to go all the way to Braavos?" Tyrion rubbed an eye carelessly and nodded. "You want to pay for Joffery's wedding? You want to bring the crown out of debt? Then we need to work something out. Perhaps along the way there might be something about Sansa Stark if indeed she left the city at all."

Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes and considered this for a minute before turning to the parchment on the table. "Very well, you may go but under certain conditions."

As Tyrion left the room and was out of his father's sight, he breathed a sigh of relief. He now had an excuse to leave King's Landing.

As he walked along the halls and absentmindedly observed everyone in their clothes of black in mourning for the queen, Tyrion wondered where he would go from here.

Abandon his family? Could he do that?

He closed his eyes. And then there was that 'stowaway' to consider. She had certainly gotten herself in a mess, but no matter what, both of them were going to leave this place.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know, I know it has been ages. I am not too happy with the word length of this chapter, but found nothing to add without getting off track. Anyhoo, thanks everyone for the tremendous effort in encouraging me to keep writing. Really appreciate it. I do have a favor though. Does anyone remember the name of the Inn Catelyn Tully use to stay in as a child? The one where she captured Tyrion and its location?  
**

* * *

**Escape from King's Landing**

* * *

Sansa grimaced at the tightness at which Shae plaited her hair back and pinned it in a secure bun. Her clothes were simple and those of a commoner, but clean and Shae had taken it upon herself to get her plenty to stock up upon. She supposed the situation should sadden her, but she had seen enough horrors to make something like this seem like a blessing.

"Are you sure you want to do this Lady Sansa?" Shae asked her quietly as she pinned her cloak around her neck. "I'm sure." Shae frowned momentarily, but said nothing. To safely leave King's Landing, Sansa had to pose as one of Tyrion's slum born whores whom he was taking along his journey as his evenings amusement.

For some inexplicable reason, Shae had been eyeing her warily and Sansa was growing increasingly uncomfortable. She supposed it had something to do with suggesting that they head to Dorne. Tyrion agreed that it was a safe place considering Princess Myrcella was there, but until permission came from the Sunspears to allow them to stay there for a length of time, it just couldn't be done. Their safest option was to disappear, but Sansa was asked if she wanted to return to her family.

_No _she had told him, which surprised him a great deal. Shae had already told him that she was with child and Sansa was too scared of her family's reaction to go back to them. Besides, she didn't want to risk the defamation of her brother's already precarious position as king. A scandal that his sister, who according to North had fallen with child unmarried, would lose him many supporters. She just couldn't risk that. Lying about being raped didn't sit too well with her either although she suspected that was what she would probably have to do it in the end when she mustered up the courage to return.

"_But my lady who is the father?" Tyrion asked her incredulously. Sansa swallowed hard and subconsciously touched her stomach._

"_Ser Sandor Clegane," she answered._

_His eyes widened._

She recalled with a bit of amusement of how much it took to insist that he hadn't raped her and that their coupling had been entirely of her own will.

"If you say so my lady. But I do not know how you will find life disappearing and living like a commoner. What is worse is that you will be husbandless and with a child. I am sure we could easily pretend you are some poor young widow, but still."

Sansa merely shrugged. "It might not be so bad," she reasoned. _I use to be so blind and selfish before. _"Do you think we may find the Hound?" Shae blinked and then grabbed her arm and hissed in her ear. "Don't be foolish. He may have been a good lover in bed, but that doesn't mean he'll give a damn about you now or you're child. He may slap you silly for coming to him with such news or beat and rape you bloody and cause a miscarriage for you anyway. Won't need moon tea then will ya?"

Gripping the skirts of her dress, Sansa gritted her teeth. She could not-_would _not believe that he would do anything of the sort to her. "He may marry me and cover my shame," she whispered. Shae held in a snort. "Don't count on it my lady. He would not want to be tied down to a woman with a couple of screaming kids. Why d'you think he became a knight of the kingsguard? Pretty as you may be, I doubt it would be enough to tempt him." Shae paused and then continued in a quieter voice. "Why do you want to marry him Sansa? For the sake of honour? Does it matter to you that much? A life with a man like him would only bring you misery."

Shae left it at that and left Sansa to her own musings. On the contrary, she did count on finding him and hoped that he would marry her, if not stay with her, then a least do this to protect her virtue or whatever of it she had left.

_Fear not _she told herself.

_You are a Stark of Winterfell. _She had survived the execution of her father, endured King Joffrey and killed a queen. Looking back at the events, she could scarcely believe it herself. She was a murderer as well as a whore and strangely enough it didn't bother her. She had seen so much, indeed been through too much to care anymore.

Any effects from the knowledge that she had murdered the queen were strangely absent. Granted she was still numb, but once the shock wore off, she did not feel an ounce of regret for what she did.

_What am I becoming?_

Had the horrors and pains she had suffered for the last year been too much? Had Sandor rubbed off on her a little? She didn't know.

But what she did know was that she had to find him. To cover her disgrace, keep her brother's honour as king and spare her child the horrors of being born a bastard. A woman's bastard at that. Sansa's inwardly cringed as she remembered her brother John. How ill she had treated and neglected him. Thinking of what her own child truly was, it made her heart pound in regret. Regret for Jon.

_When I see him again, if I ever do, I will tell him how very sorry I am and from then on consider him a true born brother._

With that in mind, Sansa reached deep into the hidden pockets within her dress and gently squeezed the folded paper.

_If all else fails, when my child comes of age, we can go on Lyanna's quest. We could ponder its meanings._

That seemed like a goal for the future. She'd be like Arya. Adventurous. Mother and child travelling to the ends of the earth to unlock a mystery.

If only life was truly that simple.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded and placed her hood over her head to hide her infamous Tully hair. The journey was about to start.

* * *

It was so cold. He knew it, yet the cold didn't bother him. It wasn't that it was winter or that it was snowing. He was just so high up in the air. He was flying. What manner of beast he was, he knew not, but oddly enough he felt safe. He could see her, probably no older than twelve or thirteen with long chestnut hair and grey eyes. Already in the bloom of womanhood.

Lyanna Stark had truly been a beauty, but even so, she was a sad sorrowful figure to behold. Her brother Brandon was trying to wrestle her to the bed as was her father. She was having one of her fits again. The mumblings of death and rebirth, of walls tumbling and women bleeding. Of the Others and the fire. None of it made sense, yet she had often had these fits ever since she had started her moons blood. They thought she was mad.

The scene changed and he observed the same fate with other true born Stark women. Shivers, chills, visions of death and mad talk. The times changed and he found himself hovering above the wall. He saw a king upon an ice throne with a woman of beauty beyond compare. From her pallor and the intense blue of her eyes, he knew she wasn't human. But for some reason he knew she was connected to all of this. To all of these women.

And the times changed again and he could see a woman he found so familiar, she reminded him of his lady mother. But she was younger and still in the youth of her beauty. Yet her face was strong and she carried around herself a leather sash with a bow and arrows made of black dragon glass. A sword was in her hands dripping with blood and a man lay dead in the snow. One side of his face was horribly burnt and yet even freshly killed; he was too pale for death. The woman with tears in her eyes dropped the sword and began to cry uncontrollably. Instinctively, he wanted to reach out and touch her and tell her everything was going to be alright. But as he reached out, the vision ended.

Bran woke up in a sweat and rubbed his eyes.

* * *

Sitting in a carriage with Shae was the safest way to leave the city. There was no way she could go on horseback and it was common knowledge that Varys had spies everywhere. They were still in dangerous territory so Sansa decided to make conversation with her hand maiden.

"Have you ever heard of Lyanna Stark?"

At that, Shae went rigid and raised a brow. Cautiously, Sansa continued.

"She was my aunt. I heard the queen speak badly of her…well indirectly. I mean, I heard from my wet nurse nan that King Robert and her were betrothed once. My lady mother also filled in a few details and while the story is sad, I do not understand why Queen Cersei hated her so. She never met her."

Shae gave Sansa a weak smile.

"You are still so innocent when it comes to the wiles of women. Queen Cersei hated your aunt because she embodied everything Cersei could not have. The queen was beautiful mind you, but her beauty wasn't enough to control King Robert. Something she wanted more than anything. While it may be folktale, many believe the king spent the rest of his years pining for Lyanna."

Sansa blinked. She could scarcely believe it since Robert was nothing more than a lecher and a drunk who had allowed Lady to be unjustly killed. But then again maybe it made sense. She remembered over a year ago when the king visited Winterfell, how he had paid his respects to her aunt in the family crypt.

"My father said he sired bastards even while he was at war."

Shae shrugged.

"Most men can't bring themselves to be faithful to a woman however much they love them. War makes them as hot as a breeding bitch in heat and you can be guaranteed they they'll fuck anything that moves. It is the way of the world and the hard road women must cross. But why the question Sansa? Surely you are more acquainted with the story more so than I."

Sansa shifted uncomfortably. She didn't want to seem suspicious and from her time attending court, she knew she was a bad liar.

"I was just curious as to what you have heard about her. What the common people say."

Her hand maiden considered her for a few moments before answering.

"The common folk say a lot of rubbish. More myth than fact, but I suppose I can tell you what I have heard. Some say the Targaryen prince stole her from Harrenhall to be his concubine and dishonour the Starks. What is curious is how she died. Your father went to rescue her, but found her dead. A battle in vain some say," Shae mused, but then her expression grew darker.

"Others say she dishonoured herself. That she went willingly with the Prince to be his whore despite knowing he was married, despite knowing what it would do to her reputation and family. Despite knowing that such a thing probably wouldn't last."

Sansa listened intently. She was highly curious about her father's sister. The woman she had never met, yet the one that started a war.

"Really?" Sansa said with hidden curiosity. Tales of treacherous women defying everything for forbidden love had never had her interest. Only the stories of chaste maidens being rescued by noble princes and brave men. But that was another time. Another place.

Things were different now and she found that the forbidden side intrigued her more.

"Do you think a woman such as Lyanna Stark would so foolishly throw everything away on a whim?" Sansa asked.

Shae shrugged.

"Most women are idiots and many often than not do. You yourself did," Shae added boldly.

Sansa gasped, but as she opened her mouth to defend herself, she found that she didn't have the words.

Because Shae was right.

But only half right.

"I threw it away yes, but I am not idiot. I knew full well what I was doing, but I didn't care. I wanted to shame Joffrey., I wanted to feel pleasure and for once I wanted to be the one in control."

The corners of Shae's lips twitched upward in a smirk.

"You may not be a fool then, but were the consequences worth it? Had you not fallen with child, you wouldn't be on the run, disgraced from court and…" Shae stopped mid-sentence, but Sansa knew what she was going to say.

_Running away from regicide _she thought.

Still though, the question brought contemplation and after several moments of silence, Sansa answered.

"That I cannot tell you yet."

She'd know if her split second decision was worth it when she met up with the Hound again.

If she met up with him.


End file.
